Morning Star
by Crimson-Tears14
Summary: Once again, she finds herself bound and imprisoned; this time on the way to Helgen for her death. After all her trials though Morrowind and Oblivion, can this lone Bosmer find her way out of Skyrim? Or will a certain Nord named Vilkas, keep her there...
1. The Beginning

-S-

Once again I find myself submitting a massive task of a storyline that just might take me years!

However, it might not if I find the time, plus I have a personal love for The Elder Scrolls Series, so that will help egg me along to get chapters done. Also, I **LOVE** Vilkas. I married him in my game. Yet I have not found many Bosmer/Vilkas fanfictions that I like, so this is me, writing my own!

Now, there are a couple of things you will need to know about this story before you decide to flame me. These are:

- This is a recreation of my exact play though, with a couple of scenes added in to help aid my characters story. I **DO NOT OWN** Skyrim, **OR** The Elder Scrolls universe. Those are** Bethesda Softworks** property!

- I have completed the game, so this will hold **massive spoilers**, you have been warned!

-I am especially re-playing the game at a **very slow pace** just for you guys to read this story, so please be considerate in your reviews. With that I mean slowly. Every time a character talks I have to press the PS button on my controller just so I can write down what is being said. It's a good thing that when the PlayStation dashboard comes up it is translucent so I can still see the text from the game seeing as there is no way to pause it during 'talking' sequences in the game. It took me three hours just to get from the start to getting out of Helgen!

-Also, I will **not **be putting disclaimers on **every page**. Only this one. Again, please don't flame me for that.

- I have played Morrowind, Oblivion and Skyrim and know much of the lore of the Elder Scrolls universe. So if you do not know the history and lore behind the games, this might not make much sense to you.

-Lastly, please, please, please **review**! I never get any reviews hardly for my stories and it would give me the motivation to carry on this massive task.

Updates will be completely random, so please don't keep asking me to update.

With that said and done, I hope you enjoy the story as much as I am enjoying writing it!

-S-


	2. Helgen

Loredas, 21st Morning Star, 3E 347

From the ashes of the fire from the Empire,  
>A lone babe found under roots of the Falinesti.<br>Peace will be infrequent and fleeting,  
>The wandering city will be finally rooted.<br>Horizons of reddened ash shall foretold,  
>While the black gates test the worthy.<br>The true Voice will prevail at any cost,  
>Through the unseen and most unlikely.<p>

Not all those who wander are lost.

...

Mondas, 17th Last Seed, 4E 201

The sound of hooves; she was steadily rocking – where was she? She shivered violently, gods she was cold! A blonde man, hands bound, face weary, came into view. Who was he? It took her a moment to realise that he, and the world, was lopsided. Was she lying down? Everything was blurred, she couldn't see straight.

"Hey, you, you're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border right? Walked straight into an Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." A rough deep voice spoke. The blonde man, he was speaking to her. He nodded towards the man next to him, who had a sour look on his face.

Ambush... just what was she doing? Everything was just so hazy. Crossing the border? That's right. She was wandering the North of Cyrodiil stalking her quarry, and the stag so happened to cross the border to which she foolishly followed into a heap of Imperial and Skyrim's native rebels, the Stormcloaks, bloody fight. Somehow she had been caught in the fray and mistaken for a rebel without getting a word in edgeways.

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy." The brunette man, seated besides the blonde, shot out, anger flashing in his eyes.

"If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." The thief turned to the small woman in the cart then, and spoke directly to her.

"You there. You and me – we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

The woman remained silent, and observed her surroundings, taking note of everything important. She was in a horse drawn cart with three other prisoners. An Imperial soldier on horseback took up the rear and another cart of prisoners was ahead of them. They were travelling with the sun high, but still with the crisp morning chill in the air. She could see white topped mountain ranges in the misty horizon behind the tall barren trees of the woodland they were being carted though. The crystal white snow on the cobbled road glistened in the sunlight, reflecting off the Imperials steel armour.

The woman sighed. This was a place where she was not meant to be. Or was she? Only the Divines may know.

She was brought back to the present by the blonde Nord opposite her sighing loudly.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." He said calmly.

"Shut up back there!" An Imperial soldier shouted from the front of the cart. No one paid him much heed.

"What's wrong with him, huh?" The thief asked, motioning to the silent man huddled in the corner of the cart next to the woman.

"Watch your tongue!" The blonde Nord spat vehemently. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" He said with admiration in his blue eyes. The supposed Ulfric remained silent and unmoving, staring out at the road behind him.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion." The thief looked shocked. "But if they've captured you... oh Gods, where are they taking us?"

The blonde man hung his head and looked out at the small greenery the snowy trees had to offer from the road they travelled down.

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." The thief murmured in quick denial, stricken fear in his eyes.

Somehow, the woman seemed to be viewing this whole scene from a completely different viewpoint than the other prisoners. How many times had she done this now? How many times had she been bound and imprisoned with an uncertain fate? She found herself with slight déjà vu, and strangely detached from her situation.

"Hey, what village are you from thief?"

"Why do you care?" The thief spat, looking broken and sick at his evident fate.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." The blonde man spoke calmly, acceptance in his eyes, making the thief relax somewhat at his calm demeanour.

"Rorikstead. I'm...I'm from Rorikstead." He relented, sadly.

An official voice sounded from the road before them, picked up easily by the woman's elven hearing.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"

The elven woman looked around her; they were entering a village of sorts.

"Good. Let's get this over with." A weathered voice replied, assumedly the General's. Everyone in the cart heard it quite clearly.

The thief started to panic once more.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me!" He almost shouted in panic, eyes darting everywhere for an escape.

Silence fell over the cart with the thief's prayers. Each lost in their own private thoughts.

Was this really how she was going to die? After all she had done? She was going to be carted off, mistaken as a rebel? It was quite pathetic really. To whom should she pray? Y'ffre, God of the Forest? She doubted he would hear her voice, so far from home. She was alone. Completely and utterly, alone.

They were being driven though the village of wood and stone now. Villagers glared in open disgust, children peered out of stained windows as stony faced parents tried to shield them from view.

It was like parading the infected though the civilized.

"Look at him," The blonde Nord before her growled deeply, staring over her shoulder behind her. "General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn Elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

The woman across from him bit her lip at his remark to her race, but remained silent none the less.

The man sighed, calming himself, and looked around the village they were in.

"This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with the juniper berries mixed in..." The Nord mused softly and everyone listened in silence.

"Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." He snorted at the irony.

Just then, a child's innocent voice was picked up from behind her, by the woman's enhanced hearing.

"Who are they Daddy? Where are they going?"

"You need to go inside, little cub." A male voice sounded from behind her also.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers."

"Inside the house, now."

The echo of the slammed door vibrated though her pointy ears. Then she heard another voice. It was female, and viciously harsh.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!"

"Why are we stopping?" The thief piped up instantly, terror edging into his voice.

"Why do you think? End of the line." The blonde Nord drawled, looking out at the village he had memories off from boyhood.

They ground to a creaking halt.

"Let's go, shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us." The blonde Nord sighed, rising to his feet. With some effort, the bound woman managed to follow suit and stand.

"No, wait! We're not rebels!" The thief shouted, as one by one the prisoners filed out of the cart.

"Face your death with some courage, thief." The deep lullaby voice of the blonde Nord spoke from behind her, as she unsteadily jumped down from the cart.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" The thief panicked, shouting over his shoulder to the Nord behind her, as if he could do something to save them.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time." That harsh female voice sounded once more. The small woman peered around Ulfric, who was standing in front of her, and matched body with voice. She was a weathered and hard Imperial Redguard captain, full of scares and a blazing hate in her dark eyes as she viewed the prisoners.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." A brunette soldier called out from besides the Captain, slightly hesitantly. He held a quill and some parchment in his hands, ticking off the people who had already been called.

"It has been an honour Jarl Ulfric." The blonde man behind her said slowly, as the silent Jarl before her walked over to the ominous block of wood.

"Ralof of Riverwood.

She felt his warm presence leave from behind her as he too headed towards the block, and the gathering crowd.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

The thief stepped forward in blind panic at the sound of his name.

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" She could see his scrawny muscles in his back contracting and tensing though his torn rags. She knew what he was about to do next, and it was a big mistake.

Lokir took off in a sprint, back up the road they had just come from, drawing the attention of everyone.

"Halt!" The Redguard Captain screamed, spittle flying everywhere, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"You're not going to kill me!" Lokir screamed back. The small elf's heart raced, hadn't he seen the archers off to the side?

"Archers!" The Captain screamed in response. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a quick notch of an arrow, quickly for an Imperial anyway, and with a familiar _whoosh_, it embedded itself in the thief's back. His dying screams echoed in her head.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The Captain spat in disgust, turning back to her quarry with a renewed hatred in her eyes.

"Wait. You there. Step forward." The Imperial with the list said, staring directly at the small woman now alone next to the cart she was just in. With her head held high, she walked towards them both. She was not afraid.

"Who are you?"

With a soft spoken voice, that faltered slightly from disuse, the woman spoke up for the first time that day.

"Clear. Wood Elf." She offered no ties or titles, just her name and race, which made the brunette Imperial study her a moment longer than he did the other prisoners.

"Not many Wood Elves chose to come alone to Skyrim." He told her, as he made some notes with his quill. Clear remained silent; trying to ignore the hole the Redguard Captain was currently burning in to her head. If looks could kill, she would have been dead a long time ago.

"Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list?" He asked, unspoken hope softening his eyes when he glanced back at the Bosmer.

"Forget the list! She goes to the block!"

"By your orders, Captain." The brunette said in resignation, hanging his head slightly. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are sent to Valenwood. Follow the captain, prisoner." The man said to her with genuine sadness in his eyes. Was that supposed to make her feel better?

With a numbness spreading over her whole body, everything seemed surreal as she followed the Redguard Captain through the crowd, towards the block. Clear came to a halt next to Ralof, who offered her a small smile in return.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like The Voice to murder his King and usurp his throne." General Tullius was saying to the crowd, the gagged Jarl mumbled in incoherent response.

"You started this war; plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace." The grey haired general continued vehemently.

Something echoed though her. An ungodly, otherworldly roar... from within her very soul. Was this what the Nord's called the 'Call of Sovngarde'? She didn't know, but something was just...not right. Looking around, Clear noticed that no one else seemed to be affected in the same way. Was she going mad..._again_?

Another roar.

"What was that?" Someone asked from the crowd, everyone looked around in unease. Clear turned her crimson head slightly to look at Ralof besides her. He was looking intently at the Imperial General, not sparing a glance at the skies like everyone else.

"It's nothing. Carry on." The General said curtly, eyes hard.

"Yes, General Tullius!" The Redguard Captain saluted, sickly sweet adoration in her black eyes as she answered the Imperial. It made Clear want to vomit.

"Give them their last rites." The Redguard said, cold edge instantly back in her voice, as she addressed the Priestess of Arkay besides her. Said woman, garbed in yellow, held her arms stretched out to the blue skies and addressed the disheartened prisoners.

"As commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved..."

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" A Stormcloak soldier shouted impatiently as he stood by the block.

"As you wish..." The Priestess said whilst looking thoroughly offended.

"Come on! I haven't got all morning!" The soldier spat as he was forced to his knees. The Redguard Captain pressed her shiny silver boot to his back as she pushed the Stormcloak soldier roughly against the block, hatred blazing in her black eyes.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials! Can you say the same?" The man hissed with hatred, just before the bloody axe came down and silenced him.

There was silence.

Clear couldn't look away.

"You Imperial bastards!"

"Justice!"

"Death to the Stormcloaks!"

Voices, shouts and screams of rage, echoed around in her head. And something else...Something was pulling her, from deep inside, calling to her...Something was deadly wrong.

"As fearless in death as he was in life." Ralof's voice sounded from besides her, bringing her back to reality.

"Next, the Wood Elf!"

Clear's emerald eyes widened a fraction. She was the only Wood Elf there, there was no doubt they meant her. Was this it? Her death?

But there it was again...

Another roar. It was louder now, nearer. The voices... incoherent yet clear, more frequent now...Whispers, shouts...A shadow in the sky...

"There it is again, did you hear that?" Another member of the crowd shouted, terror gripping his voice.

The Redguard Captain's dark eyes locked with Clear's as she sneered at the small elf nastily.

"I _said_, next prisoner!" The Captain's hard gaze locked on Clear's reaction, smirking at the death she had condemned her to.

"To the block prisoner, nice and easy." Another Imperial said, eyeing her lithe form wearily.

With a stoic expression, Clear gracefully glided over to the block, head held high as she brushed past the Captain without batting an eyelid. She knelt gently on the dirt covered floor of Helgen, senses suddenly hyper-sensitive to everything around her.

Her breathing slowed, a horse stomped the ground somewhere behind her, its harnesses clinking lightly and she heard the soft '_whoosh_' of air as a lone bird flew overhead. There was the sound of shuffling feet of the nervous prisoners and expectant crowed before her...all watching her.

She exhaled softly as time almost stood still. She could feel the harsh sun on her back, but the icy cold had long since numbed her limbs. Her neck ached as she pressed it to the block of wood, well aware of the wet coldness of blood that was not her own pressing into her skin, staining her rags.

Was this how she was going to die? She looked away from the crowd, turning her head up to look at her executioner. After all she had done, would her last sight be of a black robed Nord, raising an axe high into the sky?

There was another ear-splitting roar... and the whispers in her head turned to screams.

"What in Oblivion is that!?" She could hear General Tullius scream and the scraping of metal as swords were drawn, but Claire could not tear her eyes away from the bloody axe raised above her, blood glittering in the sunlight.

Then, just as she was about to give in, a huge, blackened shadow blurred her vision. A beast, unlike no other...

A _Dragon_!

An almighty dragon landed on the tower before her, the only thing her in obscured vision. Its ebony claws cut into the stones like butter, as it peered over the edge at the tiny life scurrying away below it.

Then it looked at her.

Straight at her.

Blood red eyes locked with emerald green wide and panicked eyes, as a higher understanding and recognition flickered in the beast's orbs. Her very soul burned. Something fiery hot was scalding her throat, contracting it painfully. Clear tried to scream, to release herself of the tension in her throat, but the dragons overpowering gaze made her unable to move.

The dragon's attention was snapped from the lone Wood Elf, to the barrage of soldiers ready to attack. With one swift motion, the beast opened its colossus maw and released a mighty burst of power from within, throwing and instantly killing dozens.

The blast of power disorientated Clear, but it didn't hurt her as much as she thought it would. It felt strangely...familiar? Another blast of power came from the beast, and her vision was starting to blur, her throat felt thick.

"Guards, get the townspeople to safety!"

Blood pounded in her ears. Her consciousness was fading. Was that dirt pressing on her face? Was she on the ground? A tremendous gush of wind enveloped her; she could hear the flapping of great wings...

"Hey, Wood Elf, come on, the God's won't give us another chance!" A familiar voice sounded next to her, someone grabbed her by the shoulder. Ralof? She stumbled to her feet, her vision was still blurred, her senses dull. The Nord was before her and Helgen was a light, fire was in the sky.

"Follow me!" Ralof urged as he turned on his heel. Her senses were coming back to her painfully slow, but the small Elf made quick to catch up with the man, needing all the protection she could get in her state.

With a burst of effort, Ralof slammed shut the doors to the Keep behind her, turning instantly to address one of the men already inside.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages." The regal looking Nord said deeply, looking troubled. A mighty roar and a resonating crash broke him off.

"We need to move, now!" The Jarl yelled.

"Up though the tower, let's go!" Ralof shouted at her, dragging the small elf by the arm. Before Clear had a moment to think, the large Nord pushed her back against the hard stone wall and threw himself upon her small frame.

"_Toor...shul!"_ An ungodly roar sounded and the part of the tower where she was just standing was ripped open and doused in the flames from Oblivion.

The heat was unbearable, and it would have singed her rags if not for the large Nord pressing her into the wall, shielding her small body from harm. She screwed her eyes shut, and clung to the man that was offering her a split moment of safety.

"You okay, friend?" Ralof said, stepping away from her to make sure she was not hurt. Clear could only nod her head mutely, too in shock to trust her voice. Silently, she followed Ralof to look out of the newly made hole in the tower wall and surveyed the burning town that was once Helgen with wide emerald eyes.

"See the inn on the other side? Jump though the roof and keep going!" Ralof said urgently, as a tremor racked though the tower, unsteadying them both, knocking Clear's line of vision to the next building below them. It was on fire, and he wanted her to jump though it?

She tore her gaze away to look back into Ralof's large blue eyes, obvious question in her own.

"Go! We'll follow when we can!" He yelled over the ground-splitting roars of the beast, placing a warm hand on her small shoulder in reassurance.

She looked down once more.

With a sharp intake of breath, she took to the sky. An elegant and terrifying leap of faith.

She collided with the upper floor with dizzying strength. The frail burnt wood snapped with her weight, sending her crashing down to the ground floor. Steadying herself, she braced the outside with only the instinct to survive driving her.

With a few steps out of the building, she ran straight into a group of Imperial soldiers, one who was attempting to go at the now grounded dragon with a sword.

"Hadvar, what are you doing? Get out the way!" One of the other Imperials screamed, clutching his bloodied side. The Imperial by the name of Hadvar, turned and ran straight into the small elf.

"Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way!" He yelled and rushed past her as the dragon took flight again. With nowhere else to go, and with her hands bound, Clear knew she didn't stand much chance on her own. Without question, the Wood Elf followed the very same people who were trying to execute her only half an hour before, dodging blasts of fire as she did.

"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar shouted over his shoulder to her, as the great blackened mass flapped overhead and landed a few feet away. Obediently, she pressed herself flat against the side of a building behind the Imperial.

Once it had let lose a stream of fire and took flight once again, the Wood Elf and Hadvar ran though the mass of dying and fighting soldiers to the gates ahead.

"It's you and me prisoner, stay close!" The Imperial solder yelled, urging her to keep up, which was proving difficult with bound hands. Up ahead, Claire could make out a familiar blonde Nord step out into the road before them.

"Ralof, you damned traitor! Get out of my way!" Hadvar spat, sword drawn.

"We're escaping Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time!" The blonde Nord shouted back, glancing over at Claire who hung back slightly.

"Fine! I hope the dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" The man in front of her screamed and ran ahead, leaving her alone.

The earth shook as the beast flew overhead, setting fire to the sky.

"You! Come on, into the Keep!" Ralof shouted at her, brandishing a newly acquired blade and Stormcloak armour. Without a seconds thought, she was hot on his heels with the fear gripping her insides painfully.

Once they were safely behind the metal doors, Clear allowed herself to exhale softly, trying to rid herself of the fear and tension constricting her limbs.

Ralof however, ran to the other side of the stone room and knelt beside a dead body against the back wall.

"We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother." He murmured with his head bowed. Silently, Clear moved towards him and placed a small and upon his shoulder in comfort. She didn't know the man who had died, but she knew all too well the pain of losing someone, everyone, she knew. Rising to his feet, Ralof looked back to her bruised and bloodied form with a soft look in his eye.

"Looks like we are the only ones that made it...That thing was a dragon, no doubt. Just like the children's stories and legends, the harbingers of the End Times."

Just then an echoing roar shook the building, causing both Nord and Elf to look around in unease.

"We better get moving. Come here; let me see if I can get those bindings off." Ralof said, motioning towards her wrists and producing his sword.

Hesitantly, she offered her bound wrists to this Nord, this _stranger_, who seemed like her only friend in the world at that moment, and who she had trusted with her life so easily...

"So, what is your name, little Elf?" Ralof murmured, as he sawed at her tough binds.

"Clear..." She spoke softly, voice cracking somewhat.

"Just Clear, little one? No title? No home?" The Nord asked, somewhat surprised that she offered no title or name of recognition...like most Nords apparently.

"No...just Clear." The Wood Elf said after a moment. It was better if she remained a stranger. She had learnt that though her long years on Nirn. With one last painful tug, her binds fell free and she tenderly felt the nasty bloody red marks on her small wrists, wincing slightly.

"There you go. You may as well take Gunjor's armour, he won't be needing it anymore." Ralof said sadly, motioning to his fallen comrade.

The Nord turned away to give her some privacy as Clear quickly relieved the body of his armour and dressed herself in it, ignoring the stench of death that lingered in the fabric. The Stormcloak armour was miles to big for her, so she had to improvise by tying the straps around her form several times just to keep it slipping off her small shoulders. However, anything was better than the blood stained rags she had on before.

Picking up Gunjor's unfamiliar war axe, the lithe elf walked over to where Ralof was unsuccessfully trying to get open the iron gates to the side of the Keep. Just then, her ears twitched ever so slightly, and she heard a horribly familiar cold cry of a Redguard voice.

"It's the Imperials! Quick, take cover!" Ralof hissed, pushing her behind him as he hid besides the door.

The evil, nasty, Redguard Captain who seemed to have it in for her from before, walked through the Iron Gate they were hiding beside, unlocking it, Clear noted silently. Without a seconds thought, Clear was past Ralof in one graceful leap and brought her heavy axe down upon the shocked woman's neck, watching the light leave her eyes. The axe felt heavy and foreign to her touch, but it was a blade, and that was all that mattered at the pressing moment.

Satisfied with her kill, Clear turned back to see Ralof finish off the remained Imperial soldier and caught him looking at her with questions behind his eyes of her seemingly seasoned killing ability in such an innocent and small form.

"Maybe one of these Imperials has the key..." Ralof suggested, still looking at her out of the corner of his blue eyes. It was obvious she was not all she made out to be.

With a silent smile, Clear held up a rusty iron key in front of the Nord that she had already taken from the fallen Captain, along with her steel sword. The elf was much better with a sword.

Despite everything, Ralof laughed, with a genuine smile on his face at her being two steps ahead.

"That's it! Come on; let's get out of here before that dragon brings the whole tower down on our heads!"

And so they ran. They ran though the Iron Gate and down into the rocky halls beneath. The elf's ears twitched ever so slightly and instantly she grasped Ralof's large hand and pulled him back towards her with surprising strength. Before he could open his mouth in question, the ceiling just before them caved in with an almightily crash, blocking the passageway before them.

"Damn, that Dragon doesn't give up easy!" Ralof said, slamming his fist into the wooden door on his left and storming into the next room. After inspecting the fallen rocks, Clear silently followed Ralof into the next room, only to find two dead Imperials at his feet. The small elf raised her eyebrows at him and the Nord just shrugged his shoulders in response, evidently a lot less frustrated now.

Something however, caught the small elf's attention. It was a large chest in the corner of the room with an extravagant padlock to it, which felt somewhat...familiar to her. Calling Ralof to wait, she quickly found the key on one of the fallen Imperials and glided over to the iron chest that seemed to be calling to her.

With a soft click, she slotted the iron key inside and after a moments held breath, the chest clicked open. Her emerald eyes lit up at what was inside.

Gently, she lifted a tattered black journal out of the chest, tied together with purple ribbon and adorned the symbols of an upside-down triangle with a dragon symbol and daedric writing inside the triangle on the front cover.

Next she gently took a small silver ring of a moon and star out of the chest and placed it with the journal.

Delving into the chest once more, Clear next pulled out a small black pack that she quickly strapped around her small waist and stowed the journal and ring safely inside.

Finally, she gingerly lifted out a magnificent ebony bow and an equally impressive ebony katana out of the chest. Both weapons were lined with the silver of the moon and the darkness of the night, and the small elf seemed to glow at their touch. She felt complete once more.

With another echoing roar of the dragon, Ralof closed his gaping mouth and ushered her to follow him down the stony caverns. Quickly strapping on her blade and bow, she discarded the large Imperial sword and took off with a small smile gracing her features. She was so glad her only possessions had not been lost.

"Trolls blood! It's a torture room!" Ralof exclaimed as they entered the next large cavern, hand flying to his mouth to try and cover up the stench of blood and death, missing the two Imperials raising their weapons.

Too fast for the human eye, Clear drew her bow and notched an iron arrow that she had found, sending two continuously into the skulls of both Imperials.

"Shor's blood, we're too late! Damn the Empire!" Ralof exclaimed in despair, falling to his knees at the sight of his mangled comrades. Clear remained silent, but moved up behind him and placed a small hand on his shoulder.

She knew his pain, oh too well.

Both weary now from their wounds, the odd couple continued on, though caverns, Imperials and cave waterfalls, Claire picking up some more Iron arrows along the way.

After Ralof turned a heavy leaver to drop the draw bridge they needed to cross, they came into a large, spacious cavern with the first bit of daylight they had seen in hours shining into the darkness in beautiful heavenly rays. A small stream, glittering in the sunlight, flowed thought he cavern and disappeared into a dark tunnel along the opposite side.

With a loud, ground shaking roar, that echoed ten-fold along the walls of the cave, Clear felt that strange sensation again, from deep within her. The almighty sound felt like it shook the very seems of the earth, and the small elf lost her footing and grasped onto Ralof for support, missing the strange look in his sky blue eyes.

She held on to him for dear life as the ground beneath them shook, almost like an earthquake, which made the tunnel that they had just travelled though, cave in behind them.

"No getting back that way now," Ralof sighed as the elf pulled free and re-arranged her slipping armour. "We'd better push on; the rest of them will have to find another way out."

They traversed in silence, side by side and weary, on through the dark rocky tunnels and the small elf was quite content that way, until her Nord companion deemed it ready to break the silence.

"So then, little Elf, what was all of that stuff you got out of that chest?" The large man asked, curiosity brimming his deep voice as they continued onwards.

Clear sighed, how could she tell him? It was better she remained unknown...but people were going to ask someday; who she was, where she was from...and someday she would have to find the answer.

"They are...a little piece of home." The red head answered after a moment's pause, her eyes held a faraway look in them. Thankfully, Ralof just nodded and accepted that as an answer.

The next thing she knew a pair of pincers were upon her, and the next thing Ralof knew as he readied his blade to defend the small elf, was a long thin katana blade spray both of them with spider blood as Clear drove her weapon though it's skull.

After they had dealt with the spiders, Clear tried to suppress a very obvious shiver, but it was in vain and Ralof saw.

"I hate those damned things, too many eyes, you know?" He offered her a small smile in understanding and they pressed onwards.

Clear spent all her remaining energy forcing her feet to move forward, one in front of the other, step by step...there was another roar. A somewhat familiar roar this time. Before Ralof had time to react, two swift iron arrows dealt the large bear a quick demise and after moving on past its body, the warm feeling of hope washed though her and her companion.

"That looks like the way out! I knew we'd make it!" Ralof half laughed, half shouted, as he grasped Clear's small hand and pulled her at a run towards the light in the distance.

Allowing herself to finally laugh too, Clear ran with him, easily overtaking his long heavy strides with her silent quick ones, and together they burst out of the small dark tunnel and into the bright light of Skyrim.


	3. Bleak Falls Barrow

The light was blindingly bright, forcing Clear to blink several times until her heightened sight re-adjusted itself to daylight after the long hours spent in the rocky caverns. She was never one for the Northern Provinces, but the small Wood Elf's breath caught in her throat at the scenery before them.

They were at the top of a sloping hill, surrounded by tall pine trees and snow covered shrubbery that littered the earth. Beautiful mountain peaks disappeared into the clouds in the horizon, casing light sun rays down upon the landscape below them as a lone eagle cast a small shadow upon the glittering snow as it flew overhead.

Clear was almost taken to tears by the beauty of it all. She had seen many things in her long life from the magnificent beauty of the Falinesti to the simple mushroom trees of the Arcadian Isles, but this...this was something else. It was beautiful, but it was by no means pretty, like Cyrodiil. The land of Skyrim was painfully harsh and cold, leaving no room for the weak, surviving though the fittest, with a constant struggle to remain. The landscape told of the history of the Nords and of their lifestyle, each mountain holding a memory of being climbed, each tree told of a different winter...that, in itself, was beauty alone.

Just before she could take another step forward, Ralof tackled her and pinned her down the ground amongst the bushes, placing a large hand over her mouth.

"Wait!" He hissed as she started to struggle against him. The elf froze as she heard that familiar echoing roar, as the beast flew over head and into the distance.

"There he goes; looks like he's gone for good, this time." Ralof said, frowning at the skies whilst helping the small elf to her feet.

"No way to know if anyone else made it out alive, but this place is going to be swarming with Imperials soon enough, we'd better clear out of here." The blonde Nord summarised as they walked in unison down the snowy track, away from the nightmare of Helgen. Clear quietly followed besides him.

"My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road. I'm sure she'll help you out." Ralof was saying and the elf nodded her head to show that she acknowledged him, but her mind was on other things as they walked steadily down the track, both weary from their wounds.

Where would she go now? She knew her lore well, but with the evident return of the dragons to Tamriel, what did that mean? What did that mean for her? Clear hated to admit it to herself, as she fell slightly behind step with her large Nordic companion, that she was tired. She was tired of the constant trials and prophecies, tired of the expectations and power thrown upon her shoulders, tired of the endless loss... yet nobody knew.

Emerald orbs studied the large powerful back of the blonde Nord in front of her. He had no idea who she was. What she was capable of. What she had _done_. Was it better that way?

"You know you should go to Windhelm and join the fight to free Skyrim." Ralof's deep voice broke her out of her thoughts, making Clear step up to walk once again besides him.

"You've seen the true face of the Empire here today." He continued, face hard as he stared down the route they traversed. _'That is where you are deeply wrong, dear Ralof.' _The crimson elf thought as she walked besides him.

She had done so much for the Empire over the ages she had spent in this world. She had fought their battles, spilt their blood honoured their creed...but whatever side she fought for, both thought their own to be true.

The Empire wasn't evil. Yet neither were the Stormcloaks. Or the Dark Brotherhood for that matter... all factions function on a creed they deem true. So who is to say what is wrong and what is right?

Only the Divines hold that power.

"...If anyone will know what the coming of the Dragons means, it's Ulfric." Ralof continued, oblivious to her thoughts.

"You really think I should join up with Ulfric Stormcloak?" Clear sighed, speaking for the first time during their walk.

"Damn right. You don't have to be a Nord to fight for Skyrim's freedom." Ralof told her deeply, obviously passionate about his cause.

"You think Ulfric knows where that Dragon came from?" The elf asked softly, thin eyebrow rose at the Nord besides her, who blushed ever to slightly at the sceptical remark.

"Well, maybe not. Dragon's haven't been seen here in Skyrim for an age or more. But wherever that dragon came from, whatever it wants, Ulfric will get to the bottom of it. You can count on that. Besides, you have your own score to settle with the Empire now, and that dragon." He ended his speech with a hopeful look in his eye as he stared down at her.

'_Your war is tiny.' _Clear thought silently. Small scuffles and rebellions will mean nothing in the large scheme of things, it takes one as old as her to realise that.

"I'll have to think about it." She said softly, not wanting to put the man down too harshly after the kindness he had shown her.

"Yeah. Sure. I understand. No need to make decisions right now." He said abruptly, turning his head away so she couldn't see his face. "But I know that after you think about what you saw today, you'll realize that Skyrim disserves to be free."

They continued down the dirt track in silence and soon came to a glittering blue stream that was backed by enormous snowy mountains that seemed to reach for the heavens. Clear could spot something on the top of the mountain, old stonework, ruins it looked like. Ralof soon confirmed her thoughts.

"See that ruin up there? Bleak Falls Barrow. I never understood how my sister could stand living in the shadow of that place. I guess you get used to it."

Clear took another good look at the ruins, they intrigued her immensely, and she silently made note that she would visit them one day.

The path started to slope downwards, following the crystal like stream that was flowing in a spray of rapids. The elf could see silverfish swimming below the surface of the water, following peacefully with the current as the water gushed downwards.

Then she stopped.

Ralof walked right into the back of her but before he could open his mouth, the elf had drawn her magnificent bow and loosed and arrow into the hills to the left of them. An agonizing cry could be heard and the two remaining wolves leapt out of their cover.

Cursing, Ralof sluggishly drew his sword but the larger of the two wolves was quicker. She went to draw another arrow but her hands grasped at thin air. Quick as the speed of light, the elf drew her blade and jumped in front of Ralof meeting barred teeth and foul breath with her ebony blade.

The force of the dark animals leap made her lose her footing and fall to the ground. Teeth were on her neck in an instant and the elf grabbed fistfuls of the beast's fur and tried to yank him away from her exposed throat. All she could do was wait for Ralof to finish the other wolf and end her own.

The wolf went limp against her once it met with the Nord's blade and Clear pushed it off her with haste. With a quick nod of thanks to her companion, she set off down the road with a brisker trot than before.

Soon they came to Riverwood, a small village made of wood and stone with the stream they followed, now a river, which ran parallel to the village. It was small and quaint, with chickens running free roam and the sound of chopping wood in the background. Clear noted the large smile that adorned Ralof's features as they walked under the wooden gates and into the village, his home.

"A Dragon, I saw a Dragon!" An old woman's voice shouts from the house behind her as Nord and Elf walked though the village.

"What is it now Mother?" Another Nord's voice sounded this one a lot more adolescent than Ralof's deep tones.

"It was as big as the mountain and as black as night! It flew right over the Barrow!" The older woman screeched frantically.

"Dragon's now is it? Please Mother, if you keep on like this everyone in town will think you have gone crazy." The young Nord said.

'_Naive fool._' Clear thought to herself and Ralof led her towards the Mill.

A child's shout of: "Uncle Ralof!" broke her thoughts.

A young boy ran up to them and leapt at the Nord besides her shouting, "Can I see your axe?" and "What's Ulfric really like!?"

Ralof let out a hearty laugh and monkey scrubbed the child's messy straw hair.

"Hush now, go and watch the South Road and see if any Imperials come nearby." A sharp female voice said to the boy as Ralof put him down.

"Go now Frodnar, do what your mother says." Ralof ordered, laughing as the child ran off with a shaggy dog that was bigger than him, bounding after him.

Clear turned to study the woman. She was tall and slim with blonde hair and hard features. She was a worker and it was evident on her strong features. It was obvious she and Ralof were siblings; they had the same sky blue eyes, although Gerdur's were darkened somewhat by a glint of un-trust.

"Clear, this is my sister Gerdur." The blonde woman nodded curtly.

"Gerdur, this is Clear, she escaped Helgen with me." Ralof said in a way of introduction, stepping back slightly to see how the women would get on.

"What can you tell me about Riverwood?" Clear began carefully, watching the woman's every reaction.

"It's my mill. Some fella's think it's my town too, but it 'aint. The Jarl of Whiterun owns the land and the town. I just pay the taxes." Gerdur's face seemed to lighten slightly when talking about her home, Clear noted.

"Is there somewhere where I can buy fresh supplies?" The elf asked again, watching the other woman's face sharpen at her question.

"And by 'supplies' I suppose you mean weapons and armour?" Gerdur snapped, but then seemed to calm herself after a pointed look her brother shot her.

"Alvor can help you out, he's our blacksmith. Here's the key to our house, stay as long as you like. If there's anything you need, just let me know." Gerdur said, her age showing though her sky blue eyes. "But what is this all about, what are you two doing here?"

"A dragon attacked Helgen and destroyed it. Ralof and I escaped together." The elf stated softly, carefully measuring Gerdur's reaction.

"A dragon? In Helgen? It can't be...although...it would explain what I saw earlier...flying down the valley from the south...I thought I might have just been seeing things." The blonde woman mused with a frown, more to herself than the two of them.

"It was a dragon, Ralof will tell you the same thing." Said man nodded from behind the elf.

"I don't know why, but I actually believe you. You've got the look of someone who has just seen a dragon. Things just go from bad to worse. First the war and now dragons...what is this world coming to?" Gerdur threw her hands up in despair.

"The Jarl needs to know if there is a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenceless...we need to get word to jarl Balgruf in Whiterun, to send whatever troops he can. If you do this for me, I'll be in your debt!" Gerdur said urgently, her eyes boring into the elf's.

Clear nodded her head slightly and the woman visibly relaxed.

Once Gerdur and Ralof had finished catching up, the Nord pulled Clear to the side with a great smile on his face.

"I told you my sister would help us out."

"How do I get to Whiterun from here?" Clear asked, smiling slightly.

"Just head North, you can't miss it. It's the capital of Whiterun hold. Jarl Balgruf still hasn't declared one side or another, so at least you won't have to run into any Imperials along the way." He snickered darkly, but then his features turned sad as he looked down on the elf.

"You're leaving, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

Clear sighed. "Yes, I am."

" Will I ever see you again, little elf?" The man asked in his deep voice, a sad knowing in his eyes. That look broke her heart. Like so many times before.

"Maybe, only the Divines may know, Ralof." She said softly. Clear was never any good at goodbyes.

"You'll come to Windhelm sometime though? To help free Skyrim?" He looked hopefully at her, but she shook her head.

"I have my own battles to fight Ralof, I am sorry."

"Oh, well I'm going to rest up here a bit before returning to Windhelm. Be careful." With one last sad look, Ralof disappeared within his sister's house, leaving Clear alone.

In the end, she was always alone.

That night she disappeared into the wilderness to find a place to sleep, preferring the night sky rather than a thatched roof to sleep under.

The next day she spent some time helping Alvor with the forge and chopping wood for Gerdur. Ralof left in the afternoon. Clear stayed in the shadows and watched him leave.

It was better not to become attached. She had to remind herself.

Finally she made enough coin from Alvor to be able to buy some leather armour from him. Clear was thankful to be rid of the oversized Stormcloak armour and finally laced up in something that was warm. With her blade sharpened and stocked up on Iron arrows, the last thing to do was to trade some pelts she had collected.

Walking into the Riverwood Trader, she was met by raised voices.

"Well one of us has to do something!" A pale skinned, dark haired woman shouted from across the shop.

"I said no! No adventurers, no theatrics, no thief-chasing!" A tanned man with short dark cropped hair shouted back from behind the shop counter, irritation evident on his face.

"Well what are you going to do then, huh? Let's hear it!" The woman screeched back in anger.

"We are done talking about this! Oh, a customer, sorry you had to hear that." The man apologized, shooting a death glare at the woman he was just arguing with.

"My name is Lucan and I own the Riverwood Trader with my sister Camilla here." He gestured towards the dark-haired woman who was still quite evidently fuming.

"Clear." The elf said in a way of introduction. "Did something happen?"

The man, Lucan, grumbled at the question.

"Um, yes...we had a bit of a break in. But still have plenty to sell. Robbers were only after one thing. An ornament, solid gold in the shape of a dragon claw." He said reluctantly, still shooting glares at his sister.

After a moment's thought, Clear answered with, "I could help you get the claw back."

Lucan and Camilla were taken aback for a moment.

"You could? I've got some coin coming in from my last shipment. It's yours if you can bring my claw back. Now, if you're going to get those thieves, you should head to Bleak Falls Barrow, northeast of town." The trader explained excitedly to the small elf.

"No you don't have to go, do you?" Lucan turned and said to his sister smugly.

"Oh really? Well I think your new helper here needs a guide." Camilla stated, equally as smug.

"Wha-no...Oh, by the Eight, fine. But only to the edge of town!" Lucan relented in despair.

"We have to go through town and across the bridge to get to Bleak Falls Barrow. You can see it from here though, the mountain just over the buildings." Camilla chatted happily as she let the elven woman out of the shop and into town.

Clear soon drowned her ranting out. For some reason the elf felt uneasy. She felt trapped, even though she was in the vast open wilderness of Skyrim. Something was still not right.

She longed to be free, like the lone eagle that was passing overhead, casting a shadow upon the snow. She needed to be free.

So she flew.

She ghosted up the mountain side so silent that her enemies did not see her leaping down from a tree branch until her dagger was in their necks.

Red stained white.

Grey filled her vision.

Before her loomed the ancient and beautiful ruins of Bleak Falls Barrow.

Cautiously, the small elf slipped inside the ruins, making sure she was not followed. After embedding two of her arrows in the bandits inside, Clear took the time to study her surroundings. The interior of the Barrow was a massive high ceiling cavern with light shining though in rays from the top. Small snowflakes from outside drifted peacefully down to the ground and Clear held out her hand to catch one.

It was a tiny thing, the snowflake, so fragile and dainty. Clear sighed.

She pushed on.

After solving a series of puzzles, the elf soon found herself in a long corridor filled with suffocating spider webs. She tensed, sword ready, when she heard a voice up ahead of her.

"Is...is someone coming? Is that you Harhnir? Bjorn? Soling?"

Clear rounded a corner to see a skinny looking Altmer entangled in a spider web, eyes wide with a panicked look on his face. Before she could study him further, a pair of pincers were upon her. With one slash of her sword, the spidery best met its demise in a shower of blood and lay still on the snow-covered floor.

"You! Over here!" He shouted. Ever cautious, Clear moved forward slowly.

"You did it, you killed it! Now cut me down before anything else shows up!" The captive demanded, as if he had the upper hand over her. Clear knew his type. He was one of the bandits.

"Where is the Golden Claw?" She asked icily, on guard.

"Yes, the Claw, I know how it works. The Claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories. I know they all fit together! Help me down and I'll show you! You won't believe the power the Nord's have hidden there!" He exclaimed in a persuasive and impatient tone.

"Hand over the Claw first." The crimson elf ordered forcibly, not trusting this stranger one bit.

"Does it look like I can move? You have to cut me down first!" The bandit said sarcastically, and without word, Claire moved forward and severed his binds.

Mistake.

The bandit made a run for it, but Clear's arrows were faster.

'_Fool._' The elf thought, stepping over his body to shoot down numerous Draugr, whom she hadn't fought since her days spent in Solstheim what seemed like an age ago.

After taking a sample of some glowing mushrooms that attracted her attention, the elf found herself in what she could only guess was the 'Hall of Stories' the previous bandit was talking about. There was a large stone slab table cluttered with weapons in the centre of the hall with runes and carvings littering the walls all around. But it was the door that caught the elf's attention.

At the end of the hall was a massive circular, solid gold door, with three inner rings and symbols adorning it. At the foot of the door was a dead bandit and upon closer inspection, Clear relieved the Golden Claw from the body's possession.

Now she had a choice. She had the Claw, she had done as asked. She should head back to Riverwood Trader. However, the big, golden, mysterious door intrigued her. Her curiosity was sparked.

'_I'm sure Lucan won't mind me borrowing the Claw for an extra few hours._' Clear thought with a smirk as she paired the symbols on the claw to the door.

Bear.

Moth.

Owl.

The door activated and opened up to a new cavern, just as big as the first cavern to the Barrow. A flurry of bats emerged out of the door, forcing Clear to shield her face, but when she dropped her hands, something throbbed inside her.

She doubled over in pain...but it wasn't pain. It didn't hurt as such; it felt almost familiar, as another throb of _something_ coursed through her, clenching her heart, making her ears ring.

The small elf felt herself being drawn to something on the back wall. There were scratch marks, it was blurry...something blue.

The sound of rushing wind echoed in her ears, tangled in her hair...overwhelming her.

**FORCE!**

The word, its meaning, its potential and its history consumed her whole being. Filling her with the word, with a hazed knowledge of the word, but she did not yet understand it.

All off a sudden the sensation was gone.

Clear rubbed her eyes, shocked. She was the other side of the cavern now, with no memory of walking across. The elf looked at the back wall for the first time properly. It was covered in scratch marks, but not just any old scratch marks, they looked organized – as if they were meant to be there.

Quickly memorizing the patterns to log in her journal later, Clear moved up onto the stone platform before the waterfall.

Suddenly, a sickening crack filled her ears and steel was upon her flesh. Wincing as her blood splashed on the stone ground, Claire quickly parried her foe. It was a larger than normal Draugr, that was garbed in a strange gown and donned a rusting crown. The elf quickly figured that this most likely was not your run of the mill draugr.

Ignoring the pain in her arm, the elf leapt at the thing with a ferocious battle cry, showering it with a flurry of her ebony blade. However, her movements were becoming sluggish and the beast was gaining the upper hand. She had to end the fight quick if she wanted to win.

With one last surge of strength, the small elf leapt once more at the beast and with a fatal stroke, severed head from body.

Clear sank to the floor. Quickly, the elf ripped some fabric off her clothes and expertly wrapped her bloodied arm up to stem the blood flow. Then seconds later, her head collided with the stone.

...

The elf felt awful as she dragged herself down the mountain to Riverwood. She was just plain exhausted and confused with her whole situation. What were these sensations she kept on having? Was it anything to do with the Dragons? Why did every historical event have to involver her..._again_?

She did not know. What she did know though, was that she picked up a rather odd looking stone tablet with those same strange scratch marks on it before leaving the Barrow. The small elf had a feeling that it may be important to her in the days to come.

Finally, Clear forced herself though the doors of the Trader and composed herself as much as possible.

"I have the Golden Claw." She told the expectant trader, watching his eyes light up in relief.

"You found it? Haha! Strange...it's smaller than I remember. Funny thing, eh?" He sounded nervous, but Clear dismissed it, really not caring at the moment.

"I shall never forget what you have done for me and my sister." Lucan said gratefully as he handed over 400 gold, turning away from her to chat excitedly to his sister.

Clear took this as her queue to leave.

Tired and bloodied, the small crimson haired elf set up camp on the outskirts of Riverwood. After washing in the freezing stream to rid herself of the stench of death and blood, she curled up in her roll with one thought in mind as she drifted off to sleep.

Tomorrow she would head for Whiterun.


	4. Whiterun

She was getting restless.

It was time to be on the move once more.

She looked back at her last journal entry as she finished packing up the rest of her small possessions; if anyone were to find or read that little black book, well... Clear didn't know what she would do. It held her life in the yellowed pages. It held stories that were just unimaginable for one person.

Yet, although dangerous to keep her journal, in a way it was her only friend. The little black hand-bound book in her slender hands had been her only friend in the darkest of hours, its pages her only true listener to her tale.

Clear sighed, as she had been doing so much lately, as she safely stowed it away in her pack.

Whiterun was calling her.

She had stocked up on supplies the day before so Clear was free to leave at dawn, her favourite time of the day.

Silently, footfalls falling softly on the mossy cobblestone and dirt path, Clear left the outskirts of Riverwood to traverse quietly down the winding path to Whiterun.

Never saying goodbye; that is the way it has always been.

Just as the path wound east to run along the gushing rapids of the gradual waterfall of the river, Clear kept to the shadows as a group of Imperial soldiers passed by her, Stormcloak prisoner bound behind.

That was her not too long ago.

Clear couldn't help but shake her red head as the thought of _'Naive human fools,'_ flickered across her mind.

No. She must not be judgemental. This was a new era, times had changed and _that_ war was over.

It was cold; Clear registered absently as her fur-wrapped feet carried her down the winding path. Of course it was cold, she was in Skyrim. However did she end up in this province of all places?

So far from home...

Clear shook her head more forcibly, as if to physically rid herself from her brooding.

It was age, her old age. That's what she put her morose thoughts down to.

After a while, the wood elf spied windmills in the horizon and the path became steeper still.

She turned left at the crossroads and noted that a rather quaint building was to her side; Honningbrew Meadery was its name, but that wasn't all that caught her attention.

There was a giant of all creatures, wandering too close to the mill and three people were attacking it.

Clear paused at the gate to watch.

There were two women and one massive hulk of a man.

The larger of the two women was shooting countless arrows into the creatures' legs whilst her male companion went at it with his steel sword. The smaller female seemed to hang back slightly, chancing a blow every now and then.

Eventually the poor creature fell to its demise with a triumphant roar from the larger of the women.

Then they spotted her.

The small elf tensed as they made their way over to where she was standing, they had evidently seen her watching.

"Well, that's taken care of. No thanks to you." The larger woman, who had white war paint smeared across her face shot sharply at her.

Clear's eyes narrowed a fraction.

"You didn't look like you needed the help." The elf stated quietly with a reserved voice.

"Certainly not, but a true warrior would have relished the opportunity to take on a giant. That's why I'm here, with my shield-brothers." The woman with war paint said, pride practically coming out of here ears.

Clear had to bite her tongue for a reply, instead settled with, "What's a shield-brother?"

They all looked at her like she was a child. Was that a bad question? The large Nord with long black hair spoke up, in a kinder tone than the woman's.

"An outsider, eh? Never heard of the Companions? And order of warriors, we are brothers and sisters in honour and show up to solve problems if the coin is good." He explained with a genuine smile on his broad features.

'_Much like the Fighters Guild, then?'_ She was tempted to say, but doubted any of them would know what she was talking about.

Clear never formally ran with the Fighters Guild; however she did do a few odd jobs with them in Morrowind. She did not know the land well and could use some intel about the area, so the small elf was presented with an opportunity.

"Can I join you?" She asked softly, searching each members face intently.

"Not for me to say. It's Kodlak Whitemane up in Jorvasker who you want to talk to. The old man's got a good sense for people. He can look you in the eyes and tell your worth. If you go to him, good luck." The large man said with a radiant beam upon his face has he held his hand out towards her.

"Farkas," He said as an introduction as the elf put her small hand in his and received a surprisingly gentle handshake.

"Clear," She said to the now named stranger, Farkas, who's smile got even wider.

"Well then Clear, this is Aela and Ria my shield-sisters." He introduced, motioning to the face-painted woman with a sour face first and then the smaller one who waved slightly at her name.

Clear dipped her head in greeting.

"Hope to see you in Jorvasker soon, little elf." Farkas said with one last wave as Aela promptly dragged him towards the main gates.

'_How rude,' _Clear thought absently as she leant against the meadery gate, watching them walk up the road. She locked her gaze to the male companion's large retreating back. That man had seen some horrors in his past; Clear could see it in his silver glinted eyes, no matter how hard he tried to hide it with happy smiles.

Also, she noticed something else, it was very faint but it was still there. Like a lingering scent or a half-forgotten memory...but it was something she recognized, something familiar.

She could see it in the woman, Aela too. Stronger in her, massively so. Yet the smaller female was completely void of this...feeling? Scent? Aura?

Clear had much to think on.

As she reached the towering main gates of Whiterun, one of the city's guards blocked her path.

"Halt! City's closed with the dragon about. Official business only!" He spat with hateful prejudice, obviously thinking her of Thalmor kin. Clear ignored him and sent him a cold stare.

"Riverwood calls for the Jarls aid."

"Riverwood's in danger too? You better go in. You'll find the Jarl in Dragonsreach, at the top of the hill." He said after a moment's pause, stepping aside to let her though with the sense to look slightly abashed at his previous behaviour.

Bowing her head softly in thanks, the lithe elf passed through the great oak doors and into the city.

Clear instantly came to the conclusion that she liked Whiterun. There was a quant bustle of life all around her and although life evidently seemed hard, the citizens around her looked content and safe.

As the small elf walked through the lower quarter of the city, she marvelled at the beautiful craftsmanship that had gone into the wood and stonework of the cozy thatched buildings around town. It was nothing compared to elven work, but then again, hardly anything was in her opinion.

Clear allowed a small smile to herself at that thought.

She climbed the stone steps which were lined with streaming water glistening in the sun, to the upper quarter. Her attention instantly snapped to a large dead winding tree in the centre of the square. She had no idea what it signified to the people of the city, or if it meant anything at all, but nature growing in a place full of stone lightened Clear's mood somewhat.

It was little things like that which made her proud of her heritage.

Finally, she got to Dragonsreach. As she entered the long hall, a warm open fire greeted her senses, heating her cold bones. The high ceiling was supported by rows of tall wooden pillars and Clear could not help making the resemblance of the architecture to that of the Skall village hall, how it was over two hundred years ago.

As she glided up the steps towards what she guessed was the throne of the Jarl, she spied a balding man and female Dunmer in heated debate with a blonde Nord slouched in the throne

"My Lord, please. This is no time for rash action. I just think we need more information before we act." Clear heard the scrawny bald man say, before a dark elf face and drawn sword invaded her vision.

"What is the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruf is not receiving visitors." The dark elf snapped at her haughtily. Clear narrowed her eyes at the woman.

"Gerdur sent me. Riverwood is in danger." The red headed elf spoke smoothly, head raised high with an air of power which made the other woman step back slightly.

"As Housecarl, my job is to deal with all the dangers that threaten the Jarl and his people, so you have my attention. Now, explain yourself." The Dunmer snapped, trying to enforce her superiority.

"A dragon attacked Helgen." Clear said simply, not liking the woman's attitude.

"You know about Helgen?" The Dunmer dropped he guard altogether. "The Jarl will want to speak to you personally, approach." With that Clear took a few steps forward to face the Jarl while the dark elf resumed her position to his right.

"So, you were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?" Jarl Balgruf asked with curiosity sparking in his dark eyes as he looked down at her small form.

"The dragon destroyed Helgen and last I saw it was heading this way." Clear said softly, deciding to leave the parts out about the Imperials trying to execute her and the strange voices in her head.

"By Ysmir, Irileth was right!" The Jarl exclaimed, sitting up straight and turned to the man besides him. "What do you say now, Proventius? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our own walls? Against a dragon?"

Clear tried not to smirk at that. The Jarl seemed to have a fool for an adviser if the bald man thought a wall could stop the mighty beast she saw a couple of days ago.

"My Lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once." The dark elf, Irileth said whilst stepping forward. "It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains..."

"The Jarl of Falkreach will view that as provocation!" Proventius cut in furiously, "He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him! We should not..."

"Enough!" The Jarl shouted, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'll not stand by while a dragon burns down my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once!"

"Yes my Jarl," Irileth saluted and walked away fiercely.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties." Proventius said, looking offended.

"That would be best." The Jarl breathed deeply with fire in his eyes, which then snapped down to Claire and softened slightly.

"Well done. You sought me out on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service and I won't forget it."

Clear just smiled back elegantly in response. She liked this Jarl. He put his people first, like a true ruler should.

"There is another thing you could do for me, suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps." He gave her a pointed look, as he knew there was more to the little elf that met the eye. Clear stiffened slightly.

However, the Jarl laughed it off and rose from his seat, offering her his arm. "Come; let's go find my court wizard, Farengar. He's been looking into a matter related to the dragons and rumours of dragons."

Gracefully, she took his offered arm and let him lead her down the steps, around the fire and through an archway to a side room where they were greeted with the sight of a scroll-strewn table and a hooded figure garbed in dark purple.

"Farengar, I think I have found someone who can help with your dragon project, go ahead and fill her in with the details." The Jarl said, unlinking his arm from hers and turned to leave. Clear smiled as she watched him go. He was one of the few humans that seemed good though and through.

"So the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?" The wizard said excitedly, causing Clear's attention to snap back towards him. "Oh yes, he must be referring to my research of the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me. Well, when I say fetch, I actually mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient tablet that may or may not actually be there."

Clear laughed softly at that, which made the wizards eyes twinkle slightly from behind the shadows of his cowl.

"What does this have to do with the dragons?" Clear asked softly; keen to gain as much knowledge as possible having never come across them in her long years on Nirn.

"Ah, no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker, perhaps even a scholar?" The wizard summarised happily. "You see, when the stories of the dragons began to circulate, many discarded them as mere fantasies, rumours, impossibilities. One sure mock of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls out of stride of his experiences of being impossible."

Clear nodded her head at that. Rambling though it was, the eccentric wizard did talk sense.

"But I began to search for information about dragons. Where had they gone all those years ago? And where are they coming from?"

"So, what do you need me to do?" Clear asked, interrupting his rambling before it went on a tangent.

"I, er, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow – a 'Dragonstone' said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Find it and bring it to me." With that, Clear smirked softly and pulled something from her pack.

"Oh, you don't mean this old stone?" She handed it over, observing his positively gleeful face carefully.

"Ah! The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! You already found it! You are cut from a different cloth than the usual brutes the Jarl foists on me."

"So, I got you the Dragonstone – what next?"

"That's where your job ends and mine begins. The work of the mind, sadly undervalued in Skyrim." The wizard went on to pour over the tablet when Clear noticed the dark elf from before, Irileth run in to the room looking frantic.

"Farengar, you need to come at once! A dragon has been sighted nearby! You should come too!" The dark elf added in an afterthought, looking straight at Clear.

"A dragon! How exciting! Where was it seen? What was it doing?" Farengar asked excitedly, almost jumping up and down on the spot.

"I'd take this a little bit more seriously if I were you. If a dragon decides to attack Whiterun, I don't know if we can stop it." Irileth snapped at him as they ran though the hall, up some stairs and into and drawing room on the second floor where the Jarl was stood with a young Whiterun guard.

"So Irileth tells me you came from the western watch tower?" Jarl Balgruf was saying to the young guard, who upon further inspection, Clear noticed was shaking slightly.

"Yes my Lord." The guard answered in a heartbeat. Irileth placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"Tell him what you told me, about the dragon." Irileth encouraged him, squeezing his shoulder slightly.

"Uh, that's right. We saw it coming from the south. It was fast...faster than anything I've ever seen." The guard answer shakily. Clear cast a sympathetic gaze over him. She had seen plenty of innocent men like him caught in the crossfire over the years.

"What did it do? Is it attacking the watch tower?" The Jarl asked, worry lined in his rigid features.

"No my Lord, it was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fast in my life... I thought it would come after me for sure." The guard trembled notably and could talk no longer.

"Good work son. We'll take it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest, you've earned it." Jarl Balgruf said warmly, clapping the lad on his back before he went on his way.

"Irileth, you better gather some guardsmen and get down there." The Jarl then ordered, face deadly serious again.

"I've already ordered my men to muster near the main gate." She replied sharply, though Clear could detect nervousness in her demeanour.

"Good. Don't fail me." The Jarl then turned to Claire, his features softening once more.

"There's no time to stand on ceremony my friend. I need your help again." The Jarl said somewhat tiredly, his age showing though his dark eyes. "I want you to go with Irileth and help her fight this dragon. You survived Helgen; you have more experience with dragons than anyone here."

'_More experience with surviving than anyone here more like._' The elf thought darkly but quickly pushed those thoughts away as she continued to listen to the Jarl.

"But, I haven't forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. As a token of my esteem, I have instructed Avenicci that you are now allowed to purchase property in the city." Jarl Balgruf finished, smiling warmly down at her.

She had many homes over the years, her favourite being the little cottage just west of Pelagiad in Vvardenfell. But that was gone now, just like everything else. Why would a house in Whiterun be any different from all those before?

Clear's attention was snapped back to the conversation at hand when the wizard Farengar spoke up suddenly.

"I should come along. I would very much like to see this dragon!"

"No, I can't afford to lose both of you. I need you here working on ways to defend the city against the dragon." The Jarl said sharply, though Clear could see that he cared deeply for his Court Wizard and Housecarl.

"As you command." Farengar answered, leaving with a downwards glance. The Jarl then rounded on Irileth.

"One last thing Irileth; this isn't a death or glory mission. I need to know what we are dealing with." Jarl Balgruf told the dunmer meaningfully, shooting her a pointed look.

"Don't worry my Lord; I am the very soul of caution."

Clear doubted that very much.

And so, the rushed meeting was over and Clear found herself tailing after the dunmer at top speed – grateful the other elf was not as slow as the humans and could keep speed with her – and met Irielth's guards at the same gate she entered the city.

"Here's the situation." Irileth explained to the nervous guard of twelve as Clear gracefully circled behind them, taking in their scared postures that they we trying so hard to hide.

The elf shook her head slightly. She hoped they all made it out alive.

"A dragon is attacking the western watchtower." Muttering and gasping ensued so Irileth raised her voice a little. "You heard right, I said a dragon. I don't much care where it came from, or who sent it. But I do know is that it made the mistake of attacking Whiterun!" She near-on shouted, fire blazing in her red eyes.

The guards still looked unsure.

"But Housecarl...how can we fight a dragon?" One of them spoke up.

"That's a fair question. None of us have ever seen a dragon before, or expected to face one in battle. But we are honour bound to fight it, even if we fail. This dragon is threatening our homes, our families! Could you call yourself Nords if you ran from this monster? Are you going to let me face this thing on my own?!" Irileth shouted, raising her sword.

"No!" The guards rallied loudly, Irielth's fierceness reflecting back on them.

"We're so dead..." Clear overhead one guard mutter quietly, making a small smile grace her features.

"It's more than our honour at stake here. Think of it, the first dragon seen in Skyrim since the last age..."

The small elf had now drowned out the Housecarl's pep-talk of honour and motivation and cast a worried glance at the horizon.

The sun was setting over Whiterun which cast a fiery glow over the harsh terrain and cold stone. Something was coming. Clear could sense it. The future didn't bode well for Skyrim, yet Clear did not yet know what part she would play in its fate.

She ran with the Whiterun Guards and Irileth, across the ragged plains of Whiterun towards the tower. She sensed that the whole group seemed tense; however the red haired elf couldn't find it in her to feel nervous. She was so used to facing off with mighty foes, but she held no delusion that she was invincible. She would be a fool if she thought that.

"No sign of any dragon right now, but it sure looks like he's been here." Irileth said as they took cover behind a particularly large rocky outcrop, surveying the burnt ruins of the watchtower.

"I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened and if that dragon is still skulking about somewhere. Spread out and search for survivors, we need to know what we are dealing with." The Housecarl commanded and the group scattered.

Clear moved away from the group and cautiously approached the front of the watchtower. The charred grass crunched under her soft footing and silently she drew her magnificent bow, arrow notched at the ready. She could hear the other guards blundering around in the distance, muttering to one another, cursing their fate. They were so noisy, like children stumbling around in the dark.

She paused at the foot of the burnt tower and closed her emerald eyes. She exhaled softly and listened to the deadly quiet land around her, feeling the life force of every blade of grass, reading the signs of what happened to the area.

She sensed a disturbance in the winds, far off to the west. Her eyes snapped open.

"Dragon to the west!" Clear shouted and leapt around the side of the tower with her bow aimed at the ready at the rapidly growing black shadow in the sky.

Their human eyes took a few moments to spot where the beast was, but when they did, chaos ensued.

"That's it! Bring that bastard down!" Irileth screamed, trying to rally her scared forces.

Clear blocked everyone out, focusing intently on the black mark on the horizon. With a _'woosh'_ she let lose her iron arrow into the night. Instantly, she notched another arrow and loosed another. Her arrows met their mark with an agonizing roar that echoed in the distance.

She had made it angry.

The ground shook beneath her feet and her hair whipped around her like a wild mane as the mighty beast swooped down towards them – yet Clear kept her balance.

Drawing another arrow, she ran up one of the rocky outcrops and leapt to the sky. Clear held her breath as the beast hurtled closer towards her and at the last moment loosed an arrow right between its scaly eyes.

The beast screamed in pain as it lost balance and collided with the hard ground, taking the small elf with it.

Clear felt pain. Her world had been turned upside down. Then suddenly with an echoing mighty roar, the world was now on fire around her. She tried to stumble to her feet, but her head was dizzy from the colossal collision with the dragon.

She opened her eyes wide, willing the blurriness to go away an as it subsided she saw the now grounded dragon snap and tear away at the Whiterun troops who were now all but running for cover.

Then it looked at her. Right at her, just like the magnificent black dragon did in Helgen. She knew what would be coming next and didn't stop to watch the beast's colossal maw open as she leapt behind a upturned boulder, shielding herself from the white hot stream of fire that was being directed her way.

Her breathing became heavy as the fire was suffocating her. She had to end this somehow, and she had to end it fast. Clear peered around the bolder to spy Irileth going at the dragon furiously pretty much on her own and without thinking, Clear took off.

She sprinted at top elven speed away from the battle scene, not missing the desperate look in Irielth's eyes as she saw her running away. Clear's resolution hardened. She looped back around and replaced her bow for her sword and readied herself to do what needed to be done.

Too fast for human eyes, the small wood elf ghosted up the beast's scaly tail and leapt to the sky once more, sword raised high above her head, fiery determination in her emerald eyes.

Just at that very moment, the magnificent beast raided its horned head and its eyes actually widened slightly in panic.

"Dovakiin, NO!" The beast spoke, it's dark mahogany voice echoed though her in understanding and suddenly she regretted what she was about to do.

It was too late, her sword pierced scale and the dragon let out one last scream of agony. Only this time, Clear could feel the beast's pain. It rippled though her body and engulfed her, almost consuming her.

She landed on the ground besides its head and laid a hand upon its rough scales.

"I am so sorry, Mirmulnir." The elf whispered, somehow instinctively knowing his name.

As she closed her eyes and let the tears flow freely at the guilt of killing such a magnificent creature, suddenly she felt a rush of power consumer her. Wind seemed to whistle in her ears as incoherent words rushed though her mind and the strange organized scratch marks from the Barrow flashed before her eyes.

Then she came to an understanding. The words became clear.

**FORCE**

The history of the entire word consumed her; she understood every aspect of that single word. Just then the rushing wind in her ears increased and her skin felt like it had been lit on fire.

Her eyes opened in panic and to her alarm she saw the scales of Mirmulnir burn away and blindingly bright tendrils of light left his body and swirled around her, burning into her very pours.

It was too much, too fast for Clear to cope. What was happening to her? She felt different somehow, something was constricting in her throat, suffocating her entire being, he soul.

It was all too much for her, she turned away from the scene and let loose a scream of frustration though confused tears.

"_FUS!"_

Clear was knocked off her feet from to raw power of her scream, her shout? She sat on the burnt ground staring wide eyed at the blue force of power that left her mouth dissipate into the darkness. The small elf couldn't do anything, she just sat there in shock staring wide eyed out into the darkness.

"What was that!?" Irielth's shout brought her back to reality. Clear steadily regained her composure, but almost lost it again when she saw that the body of Mirmulnir was nothing more than a skeleton, as if it had been there for years.

Just what was happening? What did any of this have to do with her?

"I can't believe it, you're...Dragonborn!" One of the guards exclaimed, running up in front of her with childish excitement in his eyes.

"Dragonborn, what do you mean?" Clear said, barely hearing her own words.

"In the very oldest tales, back when dragons were still in Skyrim. The Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power. That's what you did, isn't it? Absorbed the dragon's power?" The guard ramble excitedly.

"I don't know what happened to me." Claire mumbled more to herself than anyone.

"Well, you can shout now. You couldn't before, right? That can only mean one thing; you must be Dragonborn!"

"That's right, my Grandfather used to tell me stories about the Dragonborn. Those born with dragon blood in 'em. Like old Tiber Septim himself." Another guard cut in, all eager to share stories about an apparently resurfaced hero.

Clear just stood numb, taking in everything they were saying.

"I've never heard of Tiber Septim killing any dragons..."

"Come on Irileth, tell us. Do you believe in this Dragonborn business?" One of them turned to the dunmer, who had been strangely quiet since the dragon met its end.

"Hmph. Some of you would better kept quiet than flapping your guns on matters you don't know anything about. Here's a dead dragon, and that's something I defiantly understand. Now we know we can kill them. But, I don't need some mythical Dragonborn. Someone who can put down dragons is enough for me." Irileth said sharply, though when she placed her hand on the other elf's shoulder, worry was evident in her red eyes.

"You wouldn't understand Housecarl, you're not a Nord." One of the guards piped up and Irileth drew back in offence.

"I've been all across Tamriel. I've seen plenty of things just as outlandish as this!"

'_You wouldn't know the half of it' _Clear thought darkly, yet still could not find it in her to talk.

"I'd advise you all to trust in the strength of your sword arm than tales and legends" Irileth finished, obviously getting riled up. The guards started to fire back at her in argument.

"That was just shouting, what you just did! If you really are dragonborn...then-" Clear couldn't take it anymore.

She turned heal and ran.

She was good at running. She had been doing it almost all her life, and her life had been a long one. Yet, no matter the circumstance, no matter the peril, Clear was nothing if not reliable. If she was set a job, she would see it through to the end.

That's why she found herself running up the slopes to Whiterun to talk to the Jarl about what happened, before hightailing it to the opposite corner of Skyrim.

Clear could hold it together until then.

Just as she reached the main gates, the ground began to shake as if Red Mountain was erupting all over again. A blindingly bright clap of thunder forked over head and more rained down from the large mountain in the distance, the Throat of the World.

"_DOVAKIIN!" _

The call of male voiced echoed though her with a clap of thunder to accompany it and just then the heavens opened.

Clear ghosted though the sleeping city as the hard, cold rain soaked though her very skin.

She burst into Dragonsreach and ran straight up to the Jarl, who sat up straighter in his throne at the sight of her, sodden, burnt and obviously nervous form.

"So, what happened at the watchtower?" Jarl Balgruf asked instantly, eyes alert and bright, although tired bags showed under his eyes.

"The watchtower was destroyed but we have killed the dragon." Clear replied whilst thinking._ 'I killed him. I killed that poor beast.'_

"I knew I could count on Irileth!" The Jarl sat back with a grin on his bearded face. Then he took a moment to study the small elf and sat forward again in interest.

"But there must be more..." He asked, with a knowing look in his dark eyes.

Clear exhaled tiredly. The adrenaline had worn off now, and she was just anxious to get on the road again and away from people.

"When the dragon died, I absorbed some sort of power out of it." Clear said in a small voice, looking anywhere but at the Jarl.

"So it's true, the Greybeards were summoning you..." The Jarl mused, not looking at all in awe or terrified of the small elf, just thoughtful and for that Clear was thankful.

"Greybeards...?"

"Masters of the Way of the Voice. They live in seclusion up on the high slopes of the Throat of the World." Jarl Balgruf explained, genuine smile on his face as he tried to reassure the small elf.

"What do they want with me?"

"The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the Way of the Voice. The ability to focus your essence into a th'um, a shout. If you really are dragonborn, they can teach you how to use it."

Did she want to use this ungodly power though? Why are the dragons even back? And why only now does this Voice thing effect her? Thoughts like these kept on running in circled around the small elf's mind.

The Jarl mad her Thane, and mentioned something about Lydia – but Clear couldn't concentrate, she was too deep in thought. She needed to get out. The air in Dragonsreach was far too dense, it was suffocating her.

Just as she reached the main entrance, she was stopped by a iron armoured dark haired woman, named Lydia who rambled on about the elf being a hero to the hold and how it was an honour to serve her.

Clear, who was desperate to get away from people, told the woman to wait there and then she bolted.

It was the early hours of the morning; dawn had not even arrived yet.

Clear ran. She ran as fast as her honed elven speed would take her. Far away from Whiterun, far away from dragons and Greybeards and she didn't intend to come back until she had time to think everything though.


	5. Old Friend

[[[*]]]

_From the ashes of the fire from the Empire,_

_A lone babe found under roots of the Falinesti._

_Peace will be infrequent and fleeting,_

_The wandering city will be finally rooted._

_Horizons of reddened ash shall foretold,_

_While the black gates test the worthy._

_The true Voice will prevail at any cost,_

_Through the unseen and most unlikely._

_Not all those who wander are lost._

[[[[*]]]]

Tirdas, 25th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 201

A lone redheaded wood elf lounged in the tall grass of one of many beautiful forest groves of Falkreach Hold, after clearing the area of spriggans. Her battered black journal lay open on her toned stomach as the owner contemplated what to write in it.

So instead she let her crimson head lay back on the mossy ground, exhaling in peacefulness. She felt calm and timeless when she was in-tune with nature, reminding her of what it meant to be elven.

She was one of the few true elvenhien left. Most mer had evolved to only live just older than humans, but she was one of the last that had been blessed with long life by the gods. Was it really a blessing though? Or more a curse?

The time of elves was coming to an end, more so now the Thalmor are bent on taking over the world. So now, her only company were humans. Humans that grow old, wither and die.

That's why it was better to not get attached. Or so she kept telling herself.

Clear opened her emerald eyes and gazed up at the fire-lit sky of dawn. She raised her right hand towards the heavens as if to reach the gods.

'_What is my part in all of this?' _She thought silently, scowling at the sky. Then her eyes drifted to the silver ring on her still outstretched right hand.

She watched how the morning sun glistened off the metal, decorating the moon and star with flecks of oranges and red.

The ring of the Nerevarine.

Her ring.

Just who was she really? She held so many titles over the years, she had fulfilled so many prophecies...but who was she really?

Was she the Nerevarine? Or the Champion of Cyrodiil or now the Dragonborn? Why did the old gods chose _her? _And who was she to them exactly ?

She had so many questions... yet brooding over them would not do.

Clear sighed and sat up, storing her journal back in her small pack which fitted nicely with her Nightingale armour.

Over the past three months while she had been running from the title of Dragonborn, Clear had been working away with the Thieves Guild in Riften. She had pretty much spent time running with every faction in Tamriel over the years, but thievery had not been one of them. She was presented with an opportunity to join, so she took it.

She had been hard at work the past months to keep her mind occupied, discovering a corruption in leadership in the guild, uncovering a conspiracy, becoming a Nightingale of Nocturnal and restoring the Thieves Guild to its former glory.

She had been named Master of the Thieves Guild just before she left. It was just another title and Clear did not want it. So she left the guild in the hands of Brynjolf, the only person she let herself become close to in the guild.

She told herself once again: it was better not to become attached.

Besides, the lone wood elf preferred travelling alone.

'_Woosh'_

Clear's hand flew to her bleeding cheek where a knife had grazed past and was on the instant alert, bow drawn and ebony arrow notched at the ready.

She was at an disadvantage, her assailant could see her but Clear knew not where they were. She dove behind a tree and let her mind scan out, searching for any sort of life force.

She heard a whinny of a horse and a thunder of hooves. Stepping out from behind the tree trunk she loosed two arrows at once, aiming to wound not kill. Clear knew she hit her mark when she heard a female scream and a body thud as the unknown woman fell from her steed.

"Shadowmere, kill her!" The fallen woman screeched and the next thing Clear knew was out of the trees a large, magnificent ebony horse with glowing red eyes charged at her.

'_Did she say Shadowmere?' _Clear thought sharply, studying the horse as it charged closer. Cautiously, she took a risk and lowered her bow.

"Shadowmere? Is that you girl?" She asked the horse softly, holding her hand out to calm the creature.

The horse slowed its charge and then stopped all together a few feet away from the wood elf. Its head cocked to the side slightly, as if it was surveying the small woman before it.

"Kill her Shadowmere! I command it!" The fallen woman screeched again in agony from where she fell.

The horse looked back at its fallen rider and then turned its head back to look at the wood elf, intelligence showing in its crimson eyes.

Then it charged.

Before Clear had time to react she was pushed back slightly as a rough tongue attacked her face and the animal danced around her whinnying and nuzzling the elf's face.

"Shadowmere! It is you!" Clear cried happily, stroking the beast thick fur vigorously, exuberant to have her old friend and companion back.

"But how is it you? You died almost one hundred and fifty years ago? Let me get a look at you..." Clear stepped back and laughed musically as the animal arched its neck and pawed the ground with its ebony hooves.

"You must have been reincarnated...as a male I see?" Clear asked the horse, who snorted in reply and nuzzled her once more.

Clear laughed once more. The gods never ceased to surprise her. But that brought her back to the question, why was Shadowmere here?

Drawing her long ebony sword, Clear walked over to where the wounded woman was pinned to the floor by arrows, absently noting that Shadowmere was walking behind her, never leaving her side.

The arrows pinned the blond woman to the ground by both of her shoulders, covering her in a pool of blood.

"Shadowmere, you traitorous bastard!" The woman hissed in pain, glaring at the horse.

"Dark Brotherhood..." Clear spoke in a soft but deadly voice, resting the tip of her blade against the woman's exposed throat. "Obviously you have abandoned the Five Tenants; otherwise you wouldn't be attacking me." Clear spoke harshly, applying more pressure to her blade.

The blonde woman look confused.

"Listen Dragonborn, I don't know what you know about the Five Tenants but you were a contract. Nothing else." The woman spat at Clear, yet she was obviously intrigued by her failed kill.

"What have you done to my horse?!" The woman demanded, looking over at her steed. Clear jabbed her blade further into the woman's neck.

"I don't think you're in any position to give demands, but seeing as I once owed you some allegiance I'm willing to be merciful." Clear sheathed her blade and sat down besides the woman, leaving the arrows pinning her securely to the forest ground.

"Now, I just want to talk. Who are you?" The wood elf asked, smooth voice washing over the wounded woman, coaxing information out of her.

"My name is Astrid; I am the leader of the Dark Brotherhood."

"Wrong, the Night Mother is the leader of the Dark Brotherhood." Clear counteracted sternly watching Astrid become even more confused.

"No...We abandoned the tenants years ago. It is my Brotherhood now. I am its leader. How do you know so much?" Astrid asked vehemently.

Clear remained calm, trying to be as civil as possible to get information.

"I have ran with the Dark Brotherhood twice. First I was only low in the ranks but I was betrayed on a job by a fellow murderer and thrown in prison in 3E 403. The next time I ran with them was two hundred years ago where Lucien Lachance, my dear friend, gave me Shadowmere as a gift and I rose to Listener."

Astrid eyes were wide and unbelieving. "Listener..."

Clear then stood up, anger and annoyance rising though her.

"How can a once magnificent and honour bound Brotherhood fall down to this?! You turned your backs on the Night Mother and your duty as an assassin. I know that murder is considered evil, but we have always done what we must to keep the balance in life – and you have run it to the ground!" Clear almost shouted at the woman, but then calmed herself and began to pull the arrows out of Astrid's body.

"Shadowmere is my friend; he is not a possession to own. He is now free from you to go where he likes. I suggest you go back and make your amends with the Night Mother. May Sithis have mercy on your soul." The small elf said softly, an old fire of her assassin days shining in her emerald eyes.

Astrid staggered to her feet, surprised that mercy would be shown.

"Will you not be returning, Listener?" Astrid asked, somewhat humbly. Clear shook her head, absently patting Shadowmere.

"No. My time as an assassin is over. Just know that if you ever take me as a contract again, I will find you and I will cleanse your entire sanctuary like I did with Cheydinhal all those years ago."

Astrid nodded and staggered off.

Clear sighed and leant against Shadowmere for support.

"I suppose everything happens for a reason...are you staying with me, old friend?" Clear sighed, circuming to morose thoughts once more.

Shadowmere dipped his head in answer and pawed at the ground.

"I'm going to have to get used to referring to you as a boy..." Clear laughed musically and gracefully leapt onto the magnificent animal's saddle rubbing a hand along his neck.

"Come on then old boy; let's go for a run for old time's sake. What do you say?" Clear let out a chiming giggle as Shadowmere reared in response and leant forward expertly as he jumped into a gallop.

Clear literally threw caution to the wind and forgot about her entire identity for a few blissful moments as she and Shadowmere raced though the forest in a black and crimson blur.


	6. The Companions

Tirdas, 25th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 201

Shadowmere slowed to a walk as they passed left the thick woodland behind them and came to the vast open plains of Whiterun, the very plains that Clear had been running from.

Responsibility.

Was she ready to take it on once more?

The small elf sighed heavily and absentmindedly patted Shadowmere on his thick-furred neck. She was going to have to be ready. The longer she ran from it, the more people would suffer.

Where to start though?

She would need people on the inside, she would need allies. What about the Companions? They would offer her community and intel...but did she really want to get close to people again, especially after what happened with Vvardenfell?

Clear let out a humourless laugh quietly. It seemed her trusty steed had made her mind up for her, for he was already upon the Whiterun stables.

Clear dismounted gracefully and turned to lean her forehead against Shadowmere's.

"You know me too well, old friend."

With one last smile she stepped back from the magnificent horse, watching the stable boy come up to take the reins.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you..." She warned the boy as he reached out his dirt covered hand to her steed.

Shadowmere's ears went flat against his head, snorting dangerously at the boy. In an instant he reared and galloped off with a dark whinny into the vast plains of Whiterun.

"But Miss, your horse..." The stable boy turned to her with shocked wide eyes.

The elf adjusted her cloak slightly, throwing the young boy a warm smile.

"He'll be back." She explained with a knowing twinkle in her eye, before leaving the bewildered stable boy behind and gliding up to the front gates of Whiterun and into the city.

[*]

With only a moment's hesitation, the small wood elf pushed open the heavy oak door of Jorrvaskr slightly and slipped quietly inside.

"Are those two at it again?" Was the first thing she heard as loud rowdy cheering, burnt charcoal and wood, strong ale and a stifling heat filled her sharp senses and hit her like a tonne of bricks.

There was a heated brawl going on between a scrawny Dark Elf and a Nord woman, with lots of large Nords crowded around cheering and bumping ales together.

For a moment Clear debated backing out and running for the safety of Falkreach's quite forests, but then she spotted a familiar face.

"Hello Aela, is that offer to join the Companions still up?" The small elf asked softly, watching recognition flash over the huntress' war-painted face.

"Clear is it? We don't just take any milk drinkers who stumble in. Talk to Kodlak if you think you have got what it takes to be a Companion."

Aela pointed her in the right direction and promptly continued to watch the brawl, as if Clear had never disturbed her.

The elf had never felt more of an outsider than she did then.

None the less, she followed Aela's directions down the stairs and along the corridor of wood and stone. Small feet padding softly on the maroon carpet, she soon came to the large room at the end where the wooden double doors were thrown open.

Two men sat at a candle lit wooden table at the back of the room. The younger of the two seemed to be confiding in the other, with a pained and worried look upon his dark stubble features. He has dark rings around his eyes which were accentuated with black war-paint. His pale skin was contracted vividly by his long dark hair that fell to just behind his ears. But what caught Clear's attention most was his silvery grey armour that was decorated with wolf symbols. It was magnificent. The candle light bounced off his armour and left flecks of orange in his silver eyes, which were currently hard with worry.

"But I still hear the call of the blood..." The man said exasperated in a gravely deep voice, hands tightening around his ale tankard.

"We all do. It is our burden to bare, but we will overcome." The older male said tiredly, stroking his silver mane and leaning back in his chair slightly. He seemed to have a quiet authority around him, Clear noted, and guessed that he was Kodlak, the leader of the Companions.

She approached the doorway hesitantly, not wanting to intrude.

"You have my brother and I obviously, but I don't know if the others will go quite so easily." The younger man replied, seemingly still stressed.

The elf took this lapse in the conversation to make herself known.

"A stranger comes to our halls." Kodlak announced as both men looked up at her, the older one notably with a lighter expression.

"I would like to join the Companions." Clear announced in her musical voice, eyes assessing the two sets staring intently at her.

"Would you now? Here, let me have a look at you." Kodlak gestured her to come closer, with an old hand held out to her.

Clear stepped gracefully closer, ignoring the hostile growl from the younger man, and slipped her left pale slender hand into the old mans, so her Nerevarine ring remained hidden on her right. She looked down into Kodlak's warm brown eyes, staring right through him with her piercing emerald ones.

"Hmm...yes, perhaps." He murmured to himself quietly, before letting her hand drop as she stepped back.

"You have certain strength of spirit. I am Kodlak, Harbinger of the Companions and this is Vilkas," He said, gesturing to the other male who now wore a foul look on his face. "What is your name, child?"

'_I am far from a child.' _Clear thought silently, knowing that she did probably look like a child to Kodlak in human years compared to him.

"My name is Clear." She answered softly, watching the older man smile slightly at her refreshing voice.

"Master, you are not truly considering accepting _her_?!" The younger man leant forward, bitterness leaked into his now sharp voice, eyes full of loathing as he glared at her.

The elf almost took a step back. What had she done to rouse such hate in him, or offend him? Clear's eyes hardened. She would not be backed into a corner by some Nord who was not even a tenth of her age or experience.

"I am no body's master, Vilkas, and last time I checked we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts." The old man said just as sharply, effectively putting the other man, now known as Vilkas, in his place.

"Apologies," Vilkas said gruffly, but would not back down. "But perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this _outsider._" He spat the last word, throwing another dirty look at Clear.

There it was; outsider. She was always the outsider, even to her own home province. The small elf longed to belong somewhere, but with her slowed ageing it was always best to move on. The Companions would be no different, she knew sadly.

"Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference, what matters is their heart." Kodlak was saying, kindness in his eyes when he glanced over at the silent elf.

"And their arm..." Vilkas growled bitterly, yet Kodlak seemed to perk up at his colleagues comment.

"Of course! How are you in battle, girl?" The older man asked her, twinkle in his eye as she saw him glance to her two visible weapons; ebony bow and katana.

The elf hesitated for a split second, which went unnoticed by either Nord. What should she say?

"I can handle myself." She decided on saying, in a very guarded tone which prompted a raised eyebrow from Vilkas.

"That may be so. This is Vilkas," He gestured to the sour looking Nord besides him, "He will test your arm."

Kodlak then turned to the man besides him with a subtle commanding aura about him. "Vilkas, take her out to the yard and see what she can do."

"Aye," The man stood with what seemed like a great effort and stormed past her, not sparing her a second glance.

Muttering a string of elvish curses at the rude Nord, Clear silently followed him, glaring at his large armour covered back.

'_This should be interesting.' _The elf thought quietly, subconsciously rubbing the hit of her dagger strapped to her belt.


	7. Wuuthrad

**A/N: Main character name change from Claire to Clear. It was getting a bit disconcerting writing about someone with my own name. Previous chapters have all been updated with this change.**

...

Silently following the brooding Nord up the stairs and into the main hall of Jorrvaskr, Clear noted that once Vilkas threw open the iron double doors with a large '_bang' _and stormed outside, all talk and laughter ceased immediately.

Without casting a glance at the rest of the Companions in the main hall, Clear swiftly slipped out of the doors and into the small courtyard on the other side. Silently, she left the shaded overhang of the roof and stood on the western side of the cobblestoned courtyard so her large Nordic opponent blocked out the mornings harsh sun.

"The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this." Vilkas started, boredom evident in his gravelly voice as he lifted his great sword from his back. "Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form, don't worry, I can take it."

Clear inwardly growled at his mockery. She was not some child who had never used a weapon before!

The elf exhaled softly and closed her eyes for the briefest of moments.

"I don't want you using any of your bow trickery either; fight me with a proper weapon!" Vilkas called out snidely, only half heartedly readying his sword.

Clear's emerald eyes shot open, refusing to rise to his taunts.

With a flash of crimson, Clear was behind her large unwitting opponent and slashed at the back of his silver armour, pushing him to his knees with an unseen strength.

The elf stepped in front of Vilkas, watching him process what just happened with wide silver eyes.

'_Hopefully he will stop underestimating me now and fight for real.' _Clear thought silently as she glanced over at their growing spectators of Companions.

She looked back at Vilkas in time to raise her magnificent katana to block his oncoming sideward blow, pushing her backwards slightly at the sheer force of it. Clear could see that she had pissed the Nord of by embarrassing him in front of his friends and so he began attacking her with renewed vigour.

The little elf evaded all of his heavy swipes, managing to get close enough to jab under his armour every so often. She made sure she held back massively, not really wanting to show off all of her fighting capabilities to warrant interest or questions directed at her from the other Companions.

After five long minutes of parrying and striking each other, Vilkas called for the end, noticeably more bruised and cut up than Clear's unmarked pale skin.

"Not bad." He managed, puffing slightly. "You might just make it. But for now you're just a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you." Vilkas spat out at her, making Clear's emerald eyes narrow dangerously.

"Here's my sword," Vilkas proclaimed in front of everybody, holding it out to the small elf expectantly.

"Go and take it to Eorlund to have it sharpened. Be careful, it's probably worth more than you are." With that he pushed it into her small hands and stormed off without a backwards glance.

Clear just stood there in the courtyard for a moment, holding the vicious Nord's weapon in her small but deceptively strong hands. She had to forcibly remind herself that not all humans were vicious bastards and that she would have to put up with the annoying minority that contradicted that fact.

Exhaling strongly and holding her head high, Clear gracefully strode around the side of the yard and up the stone slope to the left where she could see a large magnificent forge.

Approaching softly, the elf noticed an old grizzled man working away at the forge. Guessing this man was Eorlund, she advanced with the sword hilt held out towards him.

"What brings you here?" Eorlund asked briskly turning around to face the elf with un-recognition in his grey eyes, evidently busy and wanting to get back to work.

"Vilkas sent me with his sword." Clear explained softly, handing the weapon over to him watching the older Nord visibly relax by the sound of her musical voice.

"I'm guessing you are the newcomer then?" Eorlund asked, soft smile now lighting up his worn features.

"That I am, my name is Clear." The elf introduced warmly, "Does Vilkas always send newcomers on errands?" She asked as an afterthought, slight frown adorning her pale features.

"Oh don't worry about it, they were all newcomers once. They just might not like to talk about it." The old man said with a shake of his fading golden head. "And don't just always do what you're told, nobody rules anybody in the Companions."

"But somebody has to be in charge though?" Clear asked, genuinely pleased that someone wasn't being hostile towards her for a change.

"Well, I'm not sure how they have managed it, but they have. No leaders since Ysgramor. Kodlak is the Harbinger, and he is sort of an adviser to the whole group. But every man is his own, every woman her own."

This instantly sparked an interest in Clear. That set up sounded ideal; somewhere where she was not under someone's rule and could come and go as she pleased. It was just the downside of putting up with Vilkas foul attitude towards her.

"I'll need to be going now, Eorlund." Clear said softly as she turned to leave but the Nord spoke up quickly.

"Actually, I have a favour to ask."

"What is it?" The elf asked kindly, turning back around to give the old Nord her full attention.

"I've been working on a shield for Aela. My wife is in mourning and I need to get back to her soon, I'd be much obliged if you could take this to Aela for me." Eorlund asked, handing out a beautifully carved silver shield to her.

"I'm happy to lend a hand." The elf said softly, accepting the shield and gliding back down the slope to Jorrvaskr. Finally, someone who asked nicely, the elf made sure to make a note of this.

Once entering the warm wooden hall, Clear quickly scanned her heightened vision around for the Nordic woman and spied her sat at a wooden table in rapid conversation with a balding man.

With a warm smile, despite her straining patience with Nords for one day, the crimson haired woman walked straight up to the war painted huntress and held the new shield out to her.

"I have your shield, Aela." Clear announced, interrupting the couples conversation. Aela looked up sharply at first, which then quickly melted into delight.

"Ah! Good, I have been waiting for this!" Aela exclaimed, accepting the magnificent work of smiting from the elf. "So the old man thinks you've got some talent then, Clear?" Aela asked with a smile, motioning for the lithe elf to sit with them.

"You know this one Aela? I saw her in the training yard with Vilkas." The other man supplied, nodding his head toward the elf and muttering a "Skjor" for introduction.

"Ah yes, I heard you gave him quite a thrashing." Aela smirked toward the elf, obviously impressed.

"Don't let Vilkas catch you saying that..." Skjor admonished sharply, though a slight smirk pulled at his features also.

"Do you think you could handle Vilkas in a real fight?" Aela asked the elf, leaning forward on the table slightly, intrigued by the small elf.

Clear paused slightly, debating on what to say. Finally she settled with; "I don't care for boasting."

"Ah! A woman who lets her actions speak for her, I knew there was something I liked about you." Aela sat back in her chair with a hearty smile adorning her war paint covered face. The woman's good mood was infectious, so Clear couldn't help but leak a small smile.

"Here, let's have Farkas show you where you'll be resting your head." The huntress said and with Skjor's booming shout of "Farkas!" across the room, the larger Nord walked up to the table with a mildly interested expression.

"You called me?"

"Of course we did ice brain. Show this new blood where the rest of the whelps sleep." Aela commanded with playful banter. Clear stood gracefully and offered a warm smile to the Nord who showed kindness to her all those months ago.

"Hello again, follow me little elf." Farkas said with a soft smile which gave him the look of a 'gentle giant', striding down the stairs to the living quarters making sure Clear could keep up with him.

She liked this Nord.

"Skjor and Aela tease me, but their good people." Farkas offered up in conversation, which Clear just nodded her crimson head in understanding.

"I hope we keep you, this can be a rough life." Farkas said again, turning to face her with a warm smile.

"Don't worry Farkas; I'm not that easy to get rid of." Clear reassured him, placing a slender hand on his iron bracers. The man's features seemed to soften at her caring actions.

"Just pick a bed and fall in when you're tired." Farkas motioned to the medium sized stone room through the door in front of them, which was kitted out with numerous straw cots and a few chests. Three people were milling about off duty, but they all turned their heads when Farkas and the small elf walked through.

"Tilma will keep the place clean, she always does. All right, here we are. Looks like the others are eager to meet you. Come to me or Aela when you are looking for work. Once you have made a bit of a name for yourself, Skjor or Vilkas might have something for you to do." Farkas informed her, giving her one last warm smile before leaving her to the gaggle of Companions next to the beds.

The elf let out an inaudible sigh at the thought of working her way up the ranks of yet another quild, before turning her attention to the three companions engaging in a nasty verbal fight before her. Before she could open her mouth, the scrawny male dunmer stormed past her and out of the living quarters.

"You elves, you're all the same!" A butch looking woman wearing a ridiculous iron helmet rounded on the newcomer.

"So the newcomer is another filthy elf? You and your Thalmor friends should go back to the forests away from civilization where you belong." The woman made to spit at her, but Clear swiftly sidestepped and let the ironclad woman storm out of the room also.

Her words had no affect on the red headed elf, for she had heard it all before.

"Hello, I'm Ria, we met a couple of months ago when my shield-brothers and I were taking down that giant?" The only remaining woman, more a girl, bounded up to the elf, apologetic smile on her face.

"That's just Nadja, she has a bit of a chip on her shoulder concerning the Thalmor."

"I never would have guessed." Clear managed, eager to get out into the open once more.

"I was the newest companion before you, but that's okay, I guess I can show you the ropes." Ria said eagerly, with a vague hint of longed bossiness around her.

That was the last straw for the strained elf.

Clear bid her farewells to Ria and without a look back, glided silently up the wooden stairs and out of Jorrvaskr all together, coming to a stop next to the gigantic withered tree in Whiterun's market street.

'_Well that was indeed eventful.' _The lone elf thought as she walked through the city peacefully, glad to be under Tamriel's suns once more.

So now she had to go about completing meaningless jobs and tasks for the Companions before she is deemed 'worthy'. The thought of it just made Clear sigh. Maybe if she told them all who she really was, and what she had achieved? Would that speed the process along?

Clear thought not. They would either not believe her, or run for the hills.

It was better to keep her identity a secret and not to get close to anyone.

She mustn't make attachments, they only end in blood.

Once her delicate footfalls reached the Whiterun stables outside the city, Clear climbed on top of a ruined cobblestoned wall, much to the stable boys dismay, and let out two musical high pitched whistles which resonated over the vast Whiterun planes.

Satisfied with the sound, the elf nimbly jumped down and ignored the open-mouthed look of the young stable boy as a thunder of hooves came closer to her.

'_Shadowmere...'_ Clear thought, with a small smile gracing her elven features. She really had missed her old friend. The magnificent ebony stallion galloped up to her side, rearing up dramatically to scare off the timid stable boy, which earned a soft musical laugh from the small elf.

Wordlessly, Clear vaulted on Shadowmere's back and with a soft hand placed on the stallion's thick fur, they galloped across the plains of Whiterun, heading north.

Not five minutes north, following the _White River_, Clear's sharp elven orbs caught sight of a bandit camp up ahead. She really needed a place to stay...

Before they knew what hit them, a demonic like horse leapt into the camp rearing up and striking the surprised bandits with his ebony hooves. A crimson figure ghosted off the animals back dealing fatal blows at close range, her arrows effectively ending all life that the stallion had not.

Steed and elf stood there more a moment, the latter surveying the mess around her. Shadowmere dipped his head and nudged the woman out of her thoughts.

Absently stroking the horse behind his ears, Clear contemplated what to do next.

She looked around the camp. It consisted of one makeshift tent of sturdy looking wood and thick course fabric, a stone fire pit and a few mangy looking pelts strewn across the frost covered ground as rugs. The camp was right next to the glistening water of the White River, a perfect spot for Clear and Shadowmere to now call home.

Once disposing of the dead bandits and washing away the blood splatters Clear then set about disposing off the old lion pelts and got a fire built and lit.

Leaving Shadowmere to guard their newfound camp, Clear silently glided over to a nearby mill and stole a sack full of straw, bringing it back to her camp and spreading it out across the ground next to her tent.

"There you go Shadowmere, that will be a little warmer than the cold grass." The elf said softly, patting the animal's neck. The intelligent animal nudged her back slightly and with a swish of his long tale, dropped himself down onto his knees to then lay down on the straw, tucking his muzzle into his legs.

With one last scan across the diming horizon, Clear deemed it safe enough to crawl into her makeshift tent and catch a few hours of well needed sleep.

-x-

Screams of pure terror and agony filled the brisk night air only to fall upon deaf ears, for they were too far out in the wilderness.

She swept though the encampment like an angel of death, crimson hair alight with the reds and oranges of the setting sun that cold night.

One by one they fell to her blade and arrows, never seeing her coming, never suspecting a thing. That was how it always was; that was how she worked.

Why was it that every guild expected her to kill? 'They are just bandits', they said. Don't bandits have families too?

She sliced though another mans abdomen, watching with dull emerald eyes as he looked at her in pure panic and confusion – this was far too close to her Dark Brotherhood days. She didn't want to kill any more; there was too much death in the world already– yet this was the task Farkas set her, so she would see it done.

Gliding up the ruined stonewalls, Clear picked off the remaining few bandits that Shadowmere was battling outside of the camp, and with one last swift arrow, the deed was finally done.

The night was quiet once more.

Clear let out a long sigh, her soft breath visible against the blackening night as she raised her head to look at the stars.

Would her ancestors be proud?

Closing her eyes briefly, the elf tried to supress the sudden sadness that raged though her at the loss of life and a hollow feeling of regret quickly took its place.

This was how it always was.

Jumping gracefully down from the high wall, Clear walked up to Shadowmere and gave him a soft pat of thanks for helping her with her task. She lifted his ebony reins over his head and led him slowly away from the bloodshed towards a spring she saw amongst the rocky outcrops.

She removed Shadowmere's tack to let him stretch his strong muscles and the animal nudged her side in thanks before walking around to the other side of the spring to rub his flank against the bark of an old, dried up tree.

The elf half smiled in response and after washing all the blood from her small person, she sat down on one of the rocks and opened her battered black journal.

Carefully turning the aged pages of the little book, she stopped at one of the first pages. The page was mostly empty apart from a small paragraph written in beautiful scripted handwriting in the dead centre of the page.

That small text depicted her whole meaning of life, the reason she was trapped on the mortal plane of Nirn.

Placing a slender finger on the withered page, Clear began to read the familiar yet so unfamiliar words:

"_From the ashes of the fire from the Empire,  
>A lone babe found under the roots of the Falinesti,<br>Peace will be infrequent and fleeting,  
>The wandering city will finally be rooted.<br>Horizons of reddened ash shall be foretold,  
>While the black gates test the worthy.<br>The true voice will prevail at any cost,  
>Though the unseen and most unlikely.<br>Not all those who wander are lost."_

Clear sat back and stared unseeing into the night, contemplating those mysterious words for the millionth time.

It was the ancient prophecy of her people, one that was seemingly directed at her.

After a moments thought, the elf retrieved a small ink pot and brush from her pack and began writing her thoughts down in a fresh page of her journal.

" '_**From the ashes of the fire from the Empire,'**_

_I am quite unsure what this line means. It could refer to the numerous wars and bloodshed caused by the forming of the Empire._

'_**A lone babe found under the roots of the Falinesti,'**_

_This is a clear referral to where I was found as a child. The Elders of Valenwood told me that as a babe I was found under the roots of the great city, abandoned and alone. No one knew who I was or who had left me, but they believed I was the child this prophecy speaks off, that I was a gift sent from the Divines to Nirn, to stand as her holy protector. Could that really be true?_

'_**Peace will be infrequent and fleeting,'**_

_Never were truer words written. I have lived for so, so many years. My elven life has taught me that no matter how hard you try peace will never last. _

'_**The wandering city will finally be rooted.'**_

_I assume that this means that the events of this prophecy will unfold when the Falinesti finally finds a place to settle, which it did earlier in the second era. _

'_**Horizons of reddened ash shall be foretold'**_

_This is where as much as I try to question it, I am sure this prophecy is about me. I was positive this speaks of my time in Morrowind, discovering my responsibility of the Neravarine and battling Dagoth-Ur. Or that's what I thought it did, at the time. I now know that it was actually referring to the explosion of Red Mountain, destroying Vvardenfell._

_I do not understand why one prophecy, the prophecy of the Neravarine, told me to save Vvardenfell only it to be destroyed by another prophecy, once I had finally find a place to call home. _

'_**While the black gates test the worthy'**_

_I do believe this refers to my time in Cyrodiil, when I was sent into the depths of Oblivion to defeat the invasion of Mehrunes Dagon and witnessed the heroic death of my dear friend Martin Septim, thus becoming the Champion of Cyrodiil. His death was just another of many, how many more will this prophecy predict?_

'_**The true voice will prevail at any cost,  
>Through the unseen and most unlikely.'<strong>_

_This is the last event this prophecy predicts, one I have not yet witnessed. Could this have anything to do with the strange happenings of late, anything to do with the Dragonborn? What more tasks do the Divines wish me to face?_

'_**Not all those who wander are lost.'**_

_All these years I have been wandering across Tamriel, with no home and seemingly no purpose. What has it been for? I just do not understand what I am supposed to do, who I am supposed to be; the protector of Nirn?_

_Only the Divines may know."_

Clear set her quill down and sighed into the night's sky.

If anyone were to happen upon her journal, the small elf wouldn't know what to do; how would she explain herself? She hated all the titles of fame she had amassed. Isn't 'Clear the Bosmer' enough?

Letting her crimson head tilt back slightly, she looked to the sky. There was still a few more hours until dawn and on the morrow she must head for Whiterun. Farkas would be waiting her return from the job he sent her on.

Stowing her belongings safely back in her pack, Clear walked up to Shadowmere who was laying on the cold ground and sat next to him, with her back resting against his coarse fur.

Tomorrow she would have to be back amongst people.

-x-

"I've taken care of the problem." The elf told Farkas as soon as she saw found him.

"Another job well done!" The large Nord said with a gentle smile on his face as he clapped a hand on her shoulder in praise. Clear kept a poker face, not happy about the lives she took the night previous.

"Skjor was looking for you earlier," The man continued as he removed his large hand from her tiny shoulder. Clear perked up at that.

"What does he want?" She asked softly but her tone was guarded. So far she had only had to deal with Farkas concerning jobs for the Companions, something she was happy about because he seemed like the only friendly Nord there.

"Don't know." Farkas said gruffly, "He just said he needed to speak to you before you do anything else. I don't like making him angry, but there is some work for you if you want it."

Clear didn't say anything for a moment and took in that information and also Farkas' body language. If anything he seemed a little put out that he wasn't the one giving her jobs anymore, which must mean that she was finally moving up in the ranks of the Companions.

Not wanting to cold shoulder his friendliness he had shown her so Clear took a seat next to him besides the roaring fire and turned to look into his dark eyes with a gentle smile on her face.

"What made you want to join the Companions?" She enquired softly, watching his face change from surprise about having a personal question directed at him, to a large grin as he told the small elf his story.

"Vilkas and I have been here since we were little Whelps. Our father, Sergen, raised us here. Even Vignur couldn't remember Companions younger than us!" Farkas said proudly, pointing his thumb to his chest.

Clear's bright eyes looking at him intently, taking in everything he said with interest.

"What about you, little elf? Where do you come from?" Farkas asked curiously, leaning his forearms on his thighs, intent on getting a good story out of her, however he leant back confused when her eyes darkened intensely at his question.

Clear paused for the briefest of moments. What should she tell him?

"Valenwood is my homeland, however I am more of a wanderer, of sorts." The elf answered truthfully, though sparsely. Farkas eyes widened slightly in his achievement of getting some information out of the very closed woman.

"Ah, that can't be too bad! That's why I love the Companions, you get to travel all over Skyrim!"

Clear smiled softly in response.

"How come you don't sleep in the halls? There are perfectly good beds here – and a warm fire!" Farkas asked, grin adorning his features as he spoke of his home. Then added as an afterthought:

"You are welcome here you know? You're one of us now!"

Clear's heart panged painfully at his warm invitation and open friendliness. How many times had she belonged somewhere, where she had a home and friends, only for it to end in blood and ash or she had to watch them wither and die.

He long elven life was a lonely one.

She was one of the last Elvenhein blessed with long life, yet why did it seem like a curse? To save broken hearts and hurt feelings, Clear promised herself a long time ago that it was best to keep the knowledge of her lifespan to herself and only herself.

"I know I am and thank you Farkas for your kindness," Clear started softly, placing a slender hand upon his briefly in a comforting gesture, "It's just the elf in me longs for the outside and I hate to be cooped up in one place."

Watching his face fall, Clear added in an afterthought: "My camp is just north along the White River, not a far ride from Whiterun."

Farkas seem to brighten considerably with the thought of her staying close to the Companions, though Clear worried slightly if she should have really given her and Shadowmere's location away. They were comrades right? If it made him feel better, surly that information would be safe with him.

"Farkas?" Clear asked the man, after a moments thought. His eyes connected with her shining emeralds in a sign that he was listening.

"Do you know what your brothers problem is with me?" She asked in her velvet smooth voice, making Farkas' features soften in understanding.

Since the day she fought him, Vilkas had been avoiding her like the plague. At first she didn't mind one but, but now it was rather insulting that whenever she would enter a room, he would leave.

"Ah, don't worry about it little elf! He is like that with everyone, but he is okay when you get to know him."

Clear really doubted that, but wisely didn't say anything.

Feeling the cold and familiar claws of loneliness slowing ebbing away after her friendly chat with Farkas, Clear deemed it time to bid the Nord farewell in favour of finding Skjor.

Walking outside to get a moments fresh air, the elf spied the balding man sitting on one of the benches under the wooden overhang.

"There you are," Skjor said, lifting his head in a slight but solemn smile as Clear took a seat opposite him.

"You wanted to see me?" The elf asked, stony guard back up.

"I did. Your time it seems has come." The man said matter-of-factly, staring her out as if to see if she would back down.

Clear met his gaze patiently, he emerald eyes seemingly looking into his soul. The old Nord adverted his eyes slightly.

"What do you mean?" Clear asked carefully, measuring his reaction.

"Last night a scholar came to us, he said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthrad. He seemed a fool to me, but if he is right, the honour of the Companion's deems we seek it out." Skjor explained, he had the expression of pure business – one that she copied easily.

"What does this have to do with me?" The elf asked again carefully, watching his features turn into an exasperated sigh like a hawk.

"This is a simple errand," Skjor started, though his tone suggested otherwise. "The time is right for your trial. Carry yourself with honour and you will be a true Companion. Farkas will be your shield sibling on this adventure, whelp. Try not to disappoint, or get him killed." Skjor added, features hard and an untrusting glint in his beady eyes.

Clear held her head high as she parted from his company. If only he knew how capable she really was.

Walking back into Jorvaskr, Clear brushed passed Vilkas' dark glare as he caught sight of her and headed straight to his brother, who had a grin from ear to ear as soon as her saw her.

"You're going to be my shield brother?" The elf asked warmly, tilting her head back to she could properly see his face. Nords were so tall!

"So I'm told, let's see if you impress!" Farkas commented, with a knowing glint in his eye.

Clear smiled softly in response, then after another moment's thought she asked:

"What is Wuuthrad?"

"Ysgramor was the hero who started the Companions. Wuuthrad was his weapon. He came from the ancient homeland and killed all the elves." Clear tried to supress a flinch at that, "But not all of them, because some of them are still here." He added kindly, placing a large hand on her shoulder in a friendly gesture, like he was so fond of doing.

With a slight smile on her face, Clear bade Farkas goodbye and quickly slipped though the heavy wooden front doors of the Companions home, and out into the streets of Whiterun.

Today she would hunt some deer and then see if she could fix up a shelter for Shadowmere in her makeshift camp.

Tomorrow she would start her first proper quest with the Companions.


End file.
